Cuffs
by Chanse Lowell
Summary: AH BxE EPOV D/s What does it mean to be a Dom, and what is he looking for in a sub? How will his world change when he actually finds the woman he's been looking for? And is he ready to commit everything to one sub that practically takes him to his knees? What will he do to have her and keep her as his own? There's a moment when you know what's right for you.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Tossed**

_The breeze._

_The ocean._

_The fucking sand as fingers glide and dance around the glistening golden warmth on her skin._

_So fierce._

_So beautiful._

_So free._

_Her hands clasp the back of her head and her breasts present themselves to _him_._

_The Dom inside _me.

_The beast I can barely contain. It must be fed._

_I suck on my fingers, and the taste is spreading like fire down my shaft._

_I'm hard._

_She's waiting._

_And I deny her._

"_Whose are you, pet?"_

"_Yours, Sir, only yours," she says, voice hoarse and more glistening with sex than her dripping cunt._

"_Whose cock do you beg for?" I ask, smacking her thigh with my cock._

"_Yours, Sir. Always yours."_

"_Good. That's very good," I lean over and whisper in her ear._

_Shoulders meet, her skin sighs along with her breath._

_I smile._

_Fuck. The sun beats into my eyes, and I squint._

_Water rushes and as it removes the sand around her knees, I glance down._

_What the hell?_

_Her feet are gone._

_I reach down, as fingertips glaze over her calves those disappear, too._

_In a flash, my hands disintegrate, and I'm left a trapped man, eyes larger than the sun, heart gone out to sea and the rest of me crumbles when I realize she's gone. No more._

.

.

.

I groan as I ignore my straining cock and eat my breakfast. My cuffs rest on the table next to me.

Both sets.

Fucking stupid nightmare.

It's the same one I've had ever since I split with my previous sub.

Something's missing.

I pull out the paper and peruse the sections I always read.

All the same.

The world spins on, toils and pisses on everyone's leg.

I rub my shoulder. Slept on it funny.

My eyes shift over to the training cuffs.

I pick them up, toss them into my open, waiting bag, beckoning like a lover's legs splayed open for me.

"Stop torturing yourself. Find a new sub—move on," I tell myself.

A low hum envelops my chest.

There's something missing. What the fuck is it?

I roll my neck and do a few stretches.

I'm hungry, but not for food.

I shove my now empty oatmeal bowl aside.

This black shiny table mocks me. There should be a pussy dripping on it, and I should feed the way I want to.

Fuck. So hard.

I stare at the possibilities before me. My hands ache to grip flesh that's not my own, ripe, willing and owned by me.

I grip the back of my neck instead and stand motionless, mute.

Another day of questions unanswered.

The dull ache in my cock rivals that in my chest.

"Hhhuhhhhh," I exhale in a sweeping rush, grab my own dress shirt cuffs, set them in place, straighten my tie and clean out my breakfast bowl then grab my remaining items I need for today's job.

I return to my bedroom, slip on my vest, secure it in place, grab my pocket watch and set that in place as well. My fingers whisper over the cool metal; the watch reminds me each day's a gift. I can celebrate that if I choose.

I smile and pull my suit coat on.

_Clllllaaack, clllaaaack, clllaaaack . . ._

My feet click down the hallway, and I leave before I look at my bag with longing one more time.

There's a job to be done, and then I can return and view the abyss spanned out before me. A canvas I must paint, and that I have the skills for, but am missing my muse.

Where _is_ the she?

_Bzzzzz . . . Bzzzzz . . . . Bzzzz . . ._

My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it. A yawn drifts out of me.

Why did I ever start following that damn website?

I don't need it. It's nothing but a fucking joke.

And how many more interruptions is it going to create throughout my day?

I yank open the door, lock my place up and head out to my car. I'll erase myself from that website when I get home. They'll never even know I was lurking—like an inexperienced Dom.

My fingers flex. I just needed to feel connected somehow. To know there's someone out there looking for me too.

_Zzzzhhhhuuuuurrrrrr . . ._

The garage door gapes open, and I get in my car, driving off to my new destination.

The twists and turns of the freeway fly around me. It's dark, the world resting while I stir and grab the wheel with a force that's unnecessary.

My jaw is loose, my back straight but relaxed, yet my mind races.

Soft curves . . . Lush lips . . . Hair in my grasp.

Hard muscle driving into slick, welcoming woman, deriving nothing but intense, searing pleasure.

My eyes sharpen and my sat nav tells me where to go.

I barely pay attention—I know downtown well. I'm always here, even if I'd rather avoid this place.

The dirt and grime's barely hidden by a thin veneer of paint, glass and shiny steel.

I pull into the parking garage, find the spot I've been told is mine, and casually stroll to the elevator.

I'll be the first one in management here, and the last one to leave.

I straighten my suit coat as the car lifts, and I breathe easy, knowing this day will be no different than any other.

I'll take control, move things along in a stagnant place, and leave it better than I found it.

Isn't that what a Dom does?

My erection fades as I travel the twenty floors to my destination.

No more thoughts of satin skin, mewls of pleasure, and wetness on my tongue that is honey and sapphires and all I want.

_Piiiiing!_

I exhale, step onto the floor and am immediately greeted by my secretary for the day.

"You must be Sarah Miller," I greet her with a smile.

"Yes, so glad you're here," she says, her shoulders sliding down as she releases a gust of air.

Already I've got her number.

Too energetic for this job; too flighty and entirely too young and fragile to be near me.

Though she eyes me with interest, _my_ eyes stay level and my impenetrable gaze settles her.

"No need to get up," I tell her. "I can find my way. I'm sure it's not difficult to figure out where my office is. Jerry gave me well detailed instructions." I gesture with my hand for her to stay.

She does.

I fight the urge to call her a good girl and give her instructions on how else she might please me.

My chest tightens and my pace increases as I leave her behind.

Reminds me of a previous sub, Janice. All tightly wound, bouncing around and barely able to contain a thought until I restrained her.

The offices are most likely empty, the chairs cold and vacant. Most employees don't want to be at work this early. I walk with ease toward the spot I'll call my own for the week.

_Chhhuukah, chhhuukah, chhhukah . . ._

A copy machine whirs, and I glance inside the room it resides in.

My body seizes up, and my heart stops.

Fucking hell . . .

Standing in front of the copier is a curvy, tight little girl, standing in textbook submissive resting pose.

She looks completely at peace as the copier runs off sheets of paper for her.

Her feet are shoulder width apart, arms behind her back, hands clasped at the wrist, head down, and she's silent.

All I hear besides the machine buzzing, is my quick, labored breathing.

I watch with great interest as she remains so still; a less observant man might not even realize she's here.

The machine finishes spitting out her work, and as she snaps back to attention and goes about her work, I step into the room and clear my throat.

It's an erotic torture, observing the way she moves with a fluid grace and elegance.

A wicked grin spreads throughout my entire body, and I smirk.

_Oh, yes, little subbie . . . Keep that head down, that gaze on the floor . . ._

"Excuse me . . . Can you show where my office is?" I extend my hand out to her, my body turned to the side a little. "I'm Edward Masen; here to fill in for Jerry Baker."

She shifts toward me, her steps small and filled with such a feminine, demure response, I can't help but lean toward her, too.

"Yes, Sir. I'd be happy to."

I stare at her, and her eyes quickly shift down as soon as she makes eye contact.

"Gather your copies, and then if you'd please . . ." I swallow and wait.

She takes her papers, and is all politeness and "Sir," and making me hard as fuck while she shows me around the office.

I stop at one point as she's walking, and peer into her eyes.

_Look down, sweetheart. Show me what you're made of . . ._

Predictably, she darts her gaze to the floor and smiles.

God, that's good.

"Hoooooffff," I exhale slow and steady, my fingers tightening on my briefcase to keep from touching her.

Her soft brown hair falls around her face as she keeps her head tucked down.

Each step she takes, hips rounded and so succulent, I swallow back another wave of wanting to pursue and prod into who she is. And what she might let me do to her, if the opportunity presented itself.

"This is Jerry's office. He has a lovely view. I hope you enjoy your stay while you're here, Sir," she says, voice a soft caress and a slip of hint to who and what she really is.

"Thank you . . . _Miss_ . . . ?" I wait for a name.

"Bella Swan," she says, a gentle smile twisting her lips.

Twisting my breath out of my constricting chest as well.

"Thank you, Ms. Swan." I nod. She didn't say Miss. Shit. "You're dismissed."

I pause. Wait for the mortified expression from her, the shocked tongue click, or tightening of arm muscles before she storms off over this man that just had the audacity to treat her like that.

Her eyes soften, her lips part and her little dusky tongue pokes at the edge of her lower lip. She shuffles her left foot and lingers near me. "Thank you, Sir. Enjoy your day."

She leaves, head down, and I'm smirking, caught in the doorway, unable to look away from that lithe little fucking frame of hers.

Where were the dirty looks? Where was the casual disrespect so many women in an office display?

She turns to me for a second, her body like a magnet, pulling into me, but she keeps her head down and ducks into her office.

I twitch.

I find my seat.

And I smile.

This day's different.

So unexpected.

I couldn't be fucking happier about it.

**A/N:**

**For a dear friend on a special day. Hope you like this story made in honor of you, and nothing but you and the fabulous, sweet spirit you are. Wishing you mountains of joy and much peace on this next chapter you're starting out.**

**Good news… This story's completed, and I'll be posting it daily until it runs out. Love ya, hon! You know you're like a sister to me.**

**Your friend who is honored to know you,**

**Chanse**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Yoked**

The door is clicked closed. I take over the desk before me and settle in for the week.

I set my planner in order after going through the emails Jerry's forwarded me.

Once a few things are set in motion, I finish my coffee his secretary brought me a half hour ago, and I can't help wondering where Ms. Swan is right now and how she's faring.

Before I know it, I'm standing, stretching my legs and they're carrying me to the door.

_What if you're wrong? You don't know if she's a submissive . . ._

My gut rides high, but I keep walking. I saw which direction she headed when she went into her own office.

"Knock, knock," I say, opening her door.

She glances up, smiles and swings her legs over to the side so she sits in a classic damsel position. Toes en point—her shoes are off.

Jesus. I swallow and avoid blinking so I don't miss a damn thing she does.

Or doesn't do.

Her arms are behind her back, braced behind her a little on her seat. Posture perfectly aligned, ass rounded and chest forward. That mouth is at the perfect tasting level.

I breathe the stitch out of my cock, since it's throbbing violently.

"Do you have a minute, Ms. Swan?" I ask.

Her head angles to the side and though it stays in a downward position, her eyes shift up.

Those cheek bones soften with her smile. "Sir, I always have time to help out."

I grin. "Well, that's good to hear." I step the rest of the way inside, and close the door behind me. "How long have you worked here?"

"Two years, Sir."

I swallow. _Sir_. Goddammit. I take four steps closer, edging in on her desk. "Do you like it here?"

She nods. "It's a nice company to work for, though I know we can't afford somebody like you." She slowly pulls her hands into her lap. "At least not permanently, Sir." Her hands fold together.

Her eyes move over her shoes under the desk.

Is she embarrassed I caught her without them on?

"That's probably true. I do charge a hefty fee." I chuckle. "And can you tell me where I can get some decent coffee around here? The one given to me was fairly bitter. I like some sugar with my cream," I lilt. I settle directly in front of her desk, resting a palm on the flat, clean surface.

Her hands move to her knees. She cups them and squeezes for a moment. Then her eyes roam over the desk to my hand, taunting her.

"There's a little shop downstairs on the first floor. I could get you whatever you'd like, Sir. Just tell me what your preference is," she replies. Her eyes flit to my mouth then bounce back down to my hand.

I wiggle my left ring finger so she's sure to see there's nothing there. Single.

Her ring finger seems to be empty as well. I drum my fingers on the desk. "I'll leave it up to you to surprise me. I'm sure you know better than I do what they have that's tasty. Something sweet though . . . And I like it strong. The stronger the better . . ." I slide my hand off her desk.

Her hands seem to mimic mine because the moment my hands are in my pockets, hers are back behind her, settling on the back of her seat again.

"Yes, Sir. I can do that for you." She nods, swallows once again and looks up at me through her lashes.

A tendril of hair sweeps across her shoulder and lands on her breast.

"Can you bring it to my office once you have it? I've got a Skype meeting in about twenty minutes I have to tend to," I say. I watch in delight as she squirms.

"Of course, Sir. I'll be quiet when I enter so I don't disturb you."

"I'm sure you will, and I'm sure you're good at that, Ms. Swan." I hold off a chuckle. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." She smiles and her cheeks brighten into a lovely shade of pink.

"Oh, I highly doubt that. The pleasure is all mine." I spread my legs for a moment, taking on a dominant posture.

Her breath hitches and then her eyes are back to the floor.

"I'll be waiting . . ." I leave her sitting at her desk, walk back toward my office, and recount all the details in my head.

No pictures on her desk of a man, children, or anything to hint she's taken. There were a few of her out on a boat with an older man, most likely her father. And there were a few of her cooking next to what looked like her mom. They both wore an apron and had flour on their hands.

Quite the domestic little girl. Hmm . . . _How_ domestic?

_Twitch_.

Fuck.

I step back inside my office and make myself comfortable once more.

While seated and checking my emails again, a knock reverberates off the door.

"Come," I say loud enough for the person to hear.

Some man I've never met enters. "Sorry to bother you. Miss Miller, your secretary, asked me to check on you and see if you need anything. I'm Eric by the way." He looks around the office. "Need more coffee? Tea? Water?"

"No thanks. Ms. Swan's taken care of that—she's getting me a coffee downstairs right now," I reply.

He grins. "Uh, yeah, good luck with that." He chuckles.

"And why would I need luck?" My left brow quirks.

"Because she doesn't date. I've tried—we _all_ have. Doesn't matter who asks her. We can't seem to figure that one out. She doesn't care if the guy's good looking, rich, intelligent, well-mannered. She's probably a lesbian." He shrugs. "So, you'd be better off trying to ask out Donut Guy in the deli downstairs."

I exhale with a grating sound. "Is that so?"

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "Just . . . She's kinda cold to everybody. Don't take it personal and just move on. That's what we've all done."

"Thanks for your fine assessment, but I find her sweet, and I'm sure I'm right about her." She's a sub. No question. He gave me another piece of the puzzle I needed. "You can go now." I turn back to my computer.

"O-kay, thanks," he says, sounding confused by my curt tone and ducks out.

The fucker has no idea how to deal with a real woman.

Has no idea what a cock is for either. Immature prick.

I check the time, and make sure I've got the paperwork I need. Skype's open and right at eight thirty, the meeting begins.

Within five minutes, a goddess slips like water through my door, holding two coffees up in a position that makes her look yoked. Both hands are up by by her shoulders, stiffened in place, probably to make sure she doesn't spill.

She smiles at me and then her eyes are carefully trained on the ground.

One. Two.

Two drinks on the desk for me. Both have stickies on top of them, identifying them as to what she got me. She swings her torso a little to the right and pulls out of her purse a muffin and sets that between the two cups.

I smile, grab my wallet and hand her a twenty.

She blushes and as she takes the cash without a word, I grip her hand and run my thumb along the outer edge of her hand.

Fuck, she's soft and those delicate bones make my chest heat.

I watch her face for a reaction.

Her pupils dilate, her soft little kitty tongue pokes out for a second and then she looks like she fights off a slight chill.

I smirk.

"You're too kind," I whisper. "Such a sweet little girl."

Her spine straightens and when I let go of her, those hands are immediately clasped in front of her, cupped at her pubic bone.

"Thank you, Sir. Do you need anything else?" she says in the faintest, sexiest coo. "I'm happy to get you anything you need."

"I can see that, and I appreciate it." I motion to the monitor. "But I'm good for now. Thanks to your capable hands, taking care of me. Thank you, Isabella."

She colors, moistens her lips then pulls out my change from her purse, leaving it on the desk. A second later she retreats toward the door.

I wave, and she offers a small wave back before disappearing from the room.

If I wasn't in the middle of a damn meeting, I'd palm myself since the twitchy bastard down my pants is having issues today.

When I grab the first cup of coffee, there's a little XO, along with her name, Bella, at the bottom of the sticky, and a low hum vibrates through me.

Fuck. I may need to take a break soon . . .

**A/N:**

**What do you think? Is he right? Is she a submissive, just acts like a sub by nature, or simply shy and too generous to this stranger who's stepping in as the manager for the week? Is Edward right in his assessment of her?**

**Chanse**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Fastball**

The next few days, I find a way to be at her desk for various reasons, chatting with her.

She's intelligent, charming, and so fucking sweet I can taste the sugar rolling off my tongue when I breathe in her surrounding air.

She never hesitates to please me, get me something, use the right tone and posture.

There are occasional flecks of desire there in the fleeting glances she gives me.

My dreams at night have shifted and changed.

Now, as I search for my submissive before me in the sand, there is Bella, chains around her ankles, wrists and neck, and she's whole—completely present. Not a piece of her body missing.

She smiles, and when my eyes follow along the chain, it disappears into my chest, my skin accepting it as part of me; sunken into my vital organs. And when the tide pulls at her body, making her shift away from me, I am able to counteract and pull her to me, where we're both safe.

This morning I woke up throbbing even more than usual, my breath trapped in my throat and my palms sweating. My hands were clutching the sheets.

I don't think I've ever wanted a woman more than this before, and I barely know her.

Today, as I stroll into the office, my last day to be in this building, I stop at her desk before visiting mine.

"Isabella . . . A moment?" I ask as I step in her door.

She smiles and nods with an exuberance that's so sweet and innocent, it takes everything in me to keep my hands off her.

"Do you have plans tomorrow night?"

She blinks and sits poised in her chair with her elegant legs crossed, toys pointed. Her posture is as ever, regal looking in nature.

My mouth waters, and I swallow before proceeding. "This office gave me four tickets to see the Diamondbacks tomorrow. Would you like to accompany me?"

"Do you mind if I ask first who you're giving the other set of tickets to?" She shifts to the side in her seat, her hip closest to me rounds more pronounced, and my heart races.

"I gave them to Eric Latham, Jerry's other assistant. Eric says he has a date he's going to bring along. It would be the four of us there. I'll pick you up, and he'll meet us there." I step closer like I have so many times, and set both palms on her desk then lean my weight into my hands. "It would be my honor if you'd attend with me."

She smiles and her chin tips up. "I'd love to, Sir."

"That's what I like to hear," I say. "Please text me the address to your place, and I'll pick you up at five for dinner. We'll go to the game directly after."

I pull out my business card, grab a pen off her desk and write my cell number on the back.

"That sounds good," she says, her voice crackling a little like a crisp flogger being unfurled for the first time.

A shiver reaches my spine and drops its way down to my toes. God, I'd love to . . . a flogger . . . with her and that obscenely pale, flawless skin of hers? Fuck.

My thoughts drift back to my bag at home, untouched for months.

"Thank you. I look forward to it." I slide the card across her desk so it's within reach.

She picks it up, studies it and her lips purse. "I do, too." Her eyes rake over me for half a second, and then she smooths her expression.

I leave her in her office, knowing she's mine tomorrow night.

On the way back to my office, I stop off at Eric's desk.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Masen?" There's an edge of distaste in his voice.

He's seen me circling around Bella, and he's been less than thrilled about it.

"I've got a set of tickets I'd like to give you for the Diamondbacks game tomorrow night, but . . ." I extend them out to him, and as he reaches for them, my hand retreats, pulling them out of his grasp. "I don't want you to attend. I'll pay you to take these tickets and not show up." I smile.

"Why would you do that?" He leans back in his chair and gives me a wary look.

"Because I want to spend the time alone with my guest. I'll tell her your date fell ill or something." I fan the tickets out.

"Your _guest_? Are you talking about Bella?" He scowls.

"I am, indeed. She's not interested as you've put it, and she doesn't date, so you have no worries about her little trip to the baseball game with me. I'll buy her a soda and a wiener, and you'll be five-hundred dollars richer." I drop the tickets on his desk, pull out my wallet and plop down five hundred-dollar bills.

He gawks at the cash.

"Not enough? Oh, all right. Don't show up," I say, and drop down three more. "Feel free to sell these tickets to somebody else, but not to anyone in this office. I don't need this being talked about."

He picks it all up and shoves it in his top drawer.

"O-okay," he says, his face draining of color. "You're not some deranged lunatic, are you?"

"Feel free to call her after the date to check on her." I pat his shoulder and give a smug grin. "And, no. I don't bite, unless they ask me to."

I leave him speechless and head back to my office for the last time.

.

.

.

I stand at her door, and though I'm composed outwardly, my thoughts race.

When the door opens, my eyes drag down her body, and I can't help but imagine . . .

Naked.

Kowtow.

Pale.

Slick.

Inviting.

Fuck.

_I'm_ fucked.

_Twitch, twitch._

My eyelids go heavy. "Hoooohhh." I exhale, and smile. "You look wonderful, Isabella."

She wears blue like it's a seductive call to me. She wears a smile like it's the deep, hugging, caress my soul needs.

"Thank you, Sir. It's nice to see you outside the office and in jeans." Her eyes widen and the dark amber color is hypnotic.

"Well, I don't sleep in a suit, unless it's my birthday one you're referring to." A lopsided grin takes hold of me. "In case you were wondering . . ."

She blushes so red, she rivals the bricks on the outside of her apartment building.

I chuckle, and she closes her door shut then locks up. So damn sweet—this woman has me smiling all the time.

"Dinner?" I ask.

She nods and her shoulders creep up near her ears as she clasps her hands together at the level of her pubis again.

If she makes me twitch any more than she already has, it's gonna start looking like I've got a squirrel down my pants.

I grip her behind the elbow, guide her over to my car before I come undone, push her back inside that door and find out exactly who this woman is.

"Have you ever been to a live baseball game before?" I ask.

"Yeah—my dad's a huge sports fan, so he usually had some season tickets to some athletic team. It varied from year to year, and when my mother didn't want to attend, I was his companion. I like baseball. It's a fun sport to watch live," she answers.

It's the most I think I've ever heard her say in one breath. Usually she's so shy and deferring to me, she's brief in her responses.

My brow raises. "This should be a lot of fun then. It's not often I'm with such a knowledgeable woman about things like sports and . . ."

"_And_? Sir?"

_And the lifestyle . . . _"And nothing. You just strike me as a very bright young lady—that's all I was getting at."

"Thank you." She beams. "I think the same about you, Sir. I mean . . . But as a man, n-not a young lady, and I . . . Well, I, m-meant you're very intelligent and powerful, and I . . . Well, yeah," she says, her chin slanting down and her face dropping.

"I know what you meant." I chuckle again, but this time quietly and to myself. She's adorable when flustered. "I appreciate the compliment, and appreciate the delivery even more."

Her head pops up and she smiles shyly. "You do?"

I wink. "I sure do."

"Wow . . ." she breathes.

I open her car door, help her in and watch those slender legs deftly swing into the car without ever parting. Her control is fabulous, and she's so modest.

It makes me harder than before.

I close her door, walk around the car and when I'm joining her inside, she looks at me with a questioning gaze.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"I was only wondering . . . How I got _here_?" She looks around the interior of my car.

"I helped you inside a moment ago. Were you somewhere else when that happened?" I shut my car door, settle into my seat and watch her with wry amusement.

"No, I mean, I'm just Bella—I'm no one important, and you're a . . . _big deal_," she whispers at the end like it's a secret.

"To whom?" I whisper back, hunching up my shoulders and playing it up as obnoxious as possible.

"To everybody," she says, and her hands unclasp and slap on her thighs. "Everyone in this business knows who you are. You deal with multi-million dollar clients. The office was frantic a week ago, trying to get things in the best shape possible before you showed up. Well, except for . . ."

I lean down so I'm in her view since her gaze is drifting away. "Except for who? _You_?"

She gulps and the most guilty expression I've ever seen crosses her features. "I'm sorry . . ."

I burst into laughter. "For what? For not giving a damn some twenty-seven year old traveling manager you've never met with a lot of money and fancy cars, was stopping by to lord over the office for a week while your real boss was out town?" I drop my hands on the steering wheel. "No offense taken. Besides, you're so cherry sweet, I doubt it was meant as a personal dig to me."

"But it was," she blurts. She rolls her eyes back in her head like she's mortified with herself.

My chuckle deepens, and I can actually feel it shaking my cock. "Oh, this I've gotta hear." I twist my hands on the wheel. "What did I do to you, that you'd be so cruel as to not polish your desk and rearrange your plants according to my specific tastes?"

She blushes, smiles for a second and then goes grim. "It wasn't you per se, Sir. I just have a . . . rebellious streak in me. I refuse to follow the crowd and do what everyone else is doing simply because it's the thing to do. I don't follow fashion, and I don't do anything that feels wrong to me."

I drop my hands to my seat. "Wrong, huh? And what could you possible do that's _wrong_? I think you're an innocent little dove, and I rather doubt you could do anything even remotely upsetting, especially where I'm concerned."

Her mouth quivers then tightens. "I do a lot that's considered indecent, but I . . . It's not enough." She turns her head and stares out her side window.

I drag a hand down her shoulder. "Hey . . . I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I think you're lovely."

"You do?" she says, her voice meek, her head still facing away.

"I do." I start the car and drive off, hoping I haven't already fucked this up before it's even begun . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Foul**

The car ride is short, thankfully, because she hasn't said much the rest of the way since her pseudo-confession.

When we arrive at the restaurant, I help her out of the car, and once again I'm breathless at her carriage, her poise as she moves with a fluid grace most women fail to possess.

I pay for valet parking, taking the stub and pocket it.

She stands off to the side and waits patiently, her hands clasped once more in front of her, head down and a demure expression on her face.

So beautiful.

I place my palm on her lower back as I guide her inside.

The Italian restaurant hums with life and has low, honeyed, flickering candles placed strategically around the place.

We're shown to our table right away, and I help her into her seat.

I can barely take my eyes off her.

There's this feeling I get that she struggles with the same in regard to me.

The waiter joins us, hands us both menus then explains what the specials are for the night.

I lean toward the table. "Isabella, would you mind if I take the liberty of ordering for you?"

She smiles and says, "Please do, Sir."

She hands her menu back to the waiter.

I order the first thing that pops out at me, make sure to include an appropriate wine to accompany it and when our waiter's gone, I thank her for the privilege of being here with her.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to spend some time with you, Sir." She blushes and tucks a strand of loose hair behind her hair.

I study her face, her sweet demeanor.

I sigh for a second, stuck in my thoughts. All I can think about is kissing her, tugging her body in close, and hearing her beg me for more.

"This is a nice place," she observes. She reaches out and moves her napkin aside. "I don't go out much."

"Why is that?" _Tell me who you are, Isabella. End my torment, and my constant wondering . . ._

"I just . . . well, i-it never works out for me. I'm tired of disappointing men and myself, so I stopped."

"They're the idiots, not you. You're not the problem—_they_ are. They weren't who you needed." I settle my left hand on the table. It always seems to get her when I do that at her desk.

She rolls her shoulders back and smiles for a second. "I don't know about that . . . I figured after a while I was the recurring figure in each of those scenarios that didn't end well. And Mike—"

"Who's Mike?" I growl, my gut suddenly clenching.

"My ex. Things went really wrong with him. I wasn't enough—he was cheating on me. And I caught him," she explains.

I smack the table with my left hand. "Isabella—these morons have no idea what a big mistake they made letting you go."

She drops her head, her eyes water, and she manages to look up at me through that bent position. "Why would you say that, Sir? You don't know me very well. Maybe I'm a wreck and not a good lov—"

"That's enough of that. I'm not going to listen to you insult yourself. If I say you're beautiful inside and out, then it's the truth. I don't lie," I huff.

She sniffs.

Oh shit. Is she crying?

I lean forward and search for tears. "Sorry . . . I can't stand to see a woman treated like shit and then think she deserved it. You couldn't have done anything to warrant cheating. If he wanted to see other people, the dickhead should've broken up with you. He's a coward, and I have no tolerance for a man disrespecting a woman like that."

She closes her eyes slowly, and when they open she almost beams at me. "Thank you," she mouths.

"You're welcome. Don't listen to those asinine voices in your head saying you're less than. It's not true. You're so much more than that. And I can see how wonderful you are. You can't fool me."

She hides a grin. "Excuse me, please. I think I need the ladies room."

"I'll accompany you," I say, sliding out of my chair, helping her up and walking her to the restroom; the entire time my palm is on the small of her back.

The energy radiating off her, and the sexual tension between us, is a heady cocktail, making my head buzz and my hand tingle.

My breathing is low and heavy in my gut, and my gait is smooth and polished, more so than usual, because I refuse to let her trip or falter in any way. Not when she's with me.

She pushes the door open, and I wait against the wall for her to return.

Her visit is short, and when she returns to me, she seems revived, smiling and speaking with a renewed charm.

I find myself breathless several times by the simple things she does like cutting herself off if she thinks I have something to say. Watching me intently as I take a sip or bite into my food.

She speaks with a reverence I've never seen before, yet she's not spineless. Nothing about her is weak. In fact, in her quiet, serene attitude, there's this inestimable power.

When the meal is over, I leave a generous tip, pay the bill, and leave quicker than needed.

I want to skip to the end so I can get her home, kiss her and see where this leads . . .

.

.

.

"Coke?" I ask her over the roar of the crowd.

She nods vigorously, bites her lip and sits once more with her back straight, legs glued together and head always slightly bowed unless we're actively watching the game.

I signal for the guy selling popcorn and drinks to head in our direction.

I pull out a five and hand her a large soda.

She takes it with a gracious look, and as her lips wrap around that straw . . . God.

Twitching seems like something I miss now.

My dick is weeping for her.

I take it out of her hands and ask, "May I share?"

She smiles and nods.

I take a long pull, and she watches me carefully, her eyes lit up.

The players take back to the field and the seventh inning starts up.

She's a little hoarse from yelling with me at the players and all the fouls these jackasses seem to create.

She's boisterous and even more adorable when her face turns red and she yells at the ump that he's blind and should get cataract surgery.

I have to laugh each time she jumps up with the crowd to do the wave and sing some lame-ass song I hate.

"You're very entertaining," I say.

"You're staring," she points out and blushes once more.

"Because I'd rather watch you than a bunch of idiots that can't hit a ball straight," I say.

I hate baseball; never liked it. But I like her . . .

"Oh my gosh!" she suddenly squeaks. "Where's Eric? He never showed up. Were we supposed to meet him and his date somewhere?" She places her petite hand over her heart.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you. He sent me a text. She fell ill, so they couldn't make it."

"That's terrible!" she says.

_Only to you . . . _"I'm sure he's taking good care of her." I take another swig of her drink and swallow down my chuckle over how kindhearted she is and how little things like someone not showing up to a baseball game is considered terrible.

She watches me under her lashes.

Then it hits me; since I started drinking from her cup, she hasn't touched it.

A moment later, I flag down the wandering concession dude again and buy her another one.

"I can't drink all of this myself, Sir," she says, her eyes flying open when I place it at her feet.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. I figured with all this yelling, you need something to soothe your throat, and since I can't offer a lozenge . . ." _or my come, yet_ ". . . this was the best I could do—so drink."

She wraps her hands around the giant cup, her fingers looking dwarfed and she radiates appreciation as she takes a drink. "Thank you so much," she says after she swallows.

"Sure. I'm happy to do it. You bought me how many coffees at the office?"

"Ten, but you always paid me back." She tucks a flyaway hair behind her ear again.

It pops back out a second later when she goes back for another drink.

I tuck it for her, and my fingertips linger around the shell of her ear.

Her ear and cheeks pink up.

"So beautiful," I murmur.

She looks at me from the corner of her eye, and then goes back to watching the game.

I watch her.

She's all I see.

When the game ends, I've had enough.

I walk her back to my car, and once there, I gently push her up against the door.

"Isabella . . . Please tell me my instincts are right about you." I try to slow my heart rate down so it'll quit rushing through my head and deafening me, but it doesn't work.

Her lips part and that dainty tongue wets a spot with a dip. That fucking tongue I want to devour, that I want on me and that I want to own—taunts me.

"I believe they are, Sir." She holds her gaze steady on mine. For once.

Thank God.

"What color are we, Isabella?"

"Green, Sir. Very green." She smiles, and I fucking explode inside.

I lunge at her. My hands pull her hair, tipping her head back, and my mouth is on hers, tasting, licking and commanding.

She opens to my simple parting, accepts my tongue and moans when I lean my weight into her, my hard on pressed firmly into her lower abs.

And like I expect, she keeps her hands on the car door.

I let go of her hair, pin her wrists in place and nudge her legs further apart, settling between her thighs.

When I move my hips, she accepts it by tipping up and rotating her thighs open a little. Her mouth softens as I deepen my tongue, sweeping in her mouth.

She smells insanely delicious, and I'm a second away from driving her back to my place.

So, I back up, take a deep breath and say, "Time to get home."

She's motionless, her expression unreadable.

I grip her behind her elbow, lead her around to the passenger's side, help her in and get her buckled, taking my time as I lean over her and brush up against her side.

God, she makes me crazy.

I inhale deeply as I back away.

That scent needs to be packed in my dryer sheets so I can get high off it all the time.

I close the door and her position shifts into one resembling sex kitten. Her legs tuck back up against the seat, her shoulders push back and her lower back bows with her legs crossed. The only thing off is the way her arms stay glued to her sides, rather than crossed behind her.

I should excuse myself and find a restroom now, since I may not make it home in this state with her looking like that.

I drop into the car, make idle chit chat to distract myself.

She's sweet as ever, responds politely, always with enthusiasm, and when I walk her up to her door, I say, "I'll call you. And I want you to answer when I do."

She nods.

"Say it, Isabella. I need to hear the words." I back up a step so I don't smother her with my dark look, heated breath and intention to impale her into her door with my dick.

"When you call me, Sir, I'll answer right away . . . Every time." She opens her door, slips inside.

And fuck. My fist shakes as I fight off the urge to batter that door down.

It's not until I'm in my car and see a little sticky on my seat that reads, "Thank you. XO Isabella," that I'm able to leave confident I'll see her again, and it'll be so much better the next time.

Because I know who she is now, and she most assuredly knows she's with a Dom.

A Dom who wants her desperately.

**A/N:**

**I've been asked to start a blog, and I'm happy to do that. Tomorrow I'll try to have it up and running, and I'll make sure to post pics or share links for where you can see poses like sex kitten and future toys they'll use… I'll put the link in my profile once it's functioning.**

**Thanks so much for everyone who's following, reading, rec'ing and leaving wonderful reviews. I've tried to answer a few of them as I go along, but I've got a lot going on today. It's been very gratifying to know there are others out there that admire this lifestyle and think it's beautiful, too.**

**Chanse**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Strapped**

"Do you have any idea how hard I am?" I ask, holding my phone in a tight grip.

She breathes raggedly into the line. "No, Sir. I have an active imagination, but I wouldn't presume to guess how long, thick or hard it is."

"Hhhhuuuuaaaah," I exhale and palm myself. "Maybe I should change the subject." I blink, shift away from the window in the new office where I'm acting as manager. "I miss you, angel."

She sucks in a tight sweep of air. "Thank you, that's good to hear, Sir."

"I better hear an, 'I miss you too, Sir,' or this Dom's gonna have some serious issues," I say. I lean over and finger her sticky on my monitor I've attached so I can see it all day long. It's pathetic, but it's all I have of her so far.

"I think I need to hear what kind of issues you might have before I say another word," she says, chuckling a little.

"Oh, Isabella, you know how to drive a man to his knees, don't you?"

"Only because then he's on the ground with me, and there are so many naughty, fun things to do down there."

I cup myself and squeeze. She's gonna make me come if she keeps this up. "What do you want? What do I need to do to see you again?"

"Sir, you're deflecting. Does this mean if I ask you a question, you won't be answering me?"

I chuckle. "Perceptive little thing, huh? Angel, I'll say whatever you want if you tell me I can see you tonight." She takes a breath, about to speak, and I cut her off, "Before you say no, I want you to consider why you haven't been dating."

"You know why, Sir," she says, her voice quieter.

"And you do, too. Vanilla's not a flavor you enjoy, and frankly, neither do I. Time to try something with a flavor you won't forget, and will actually want more of. Now . . ." I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling, my chest tight ". . . time to say you miss me and you want to see me, too, or this phone call's over."

"I do miss you, Sir. So much, and I do want to see you, but it's Monday," she says, her voice squeaking a little bit.

God, she's adorable. I've lost count of how many times I've had to fight off the urge to get in my car and go pick her up right now.

"So? I don't give a fuck if it's the first day of your period and you've got some bladder exploding disease. I'll put you in an adult diaper, and you'll deal with it. Be with me tonight," I say. My hand rests on the desk, and I'm suddenly seeing her soft, beautiful eyes watching my hand when it used to be on her desk.

"Ewww . . ." She giggles.

My balls have issues with that sound; they tighten and I throb.

"Dinner. I'll have you home at a reasonable hour, you won't miss me anymore, and I'll be able to think straight again." I stretch my neck. I'm so tense, I wonder if I'm gonna need to get a massage later today before seeing her.

"Sir, I don't think there's any point in saying no."

"That's not a yes, though . . ." I lead her, my brows rising along with my voice, even if she can't see my facial expression.

She's typing something. I can hear her keyboard in the background. "You know my mind better than I do, so you know it's a yes."

"Goddamn, angel, why do you have to make me beg for it? Are you really begging for a spanking right from the start?" I chuckle.

"N-no, Sir. I wasn't trying to—"

"Relax . . . I was only teasing. I won't touch you unless you want me to," I say, my voice going rough at the end.

"Depends."

"On, what? This I have to know." I stop breathing and switch the phone to my other ear while I sit on the edge of my chair, ready to take off after her.

"On what you're going to strap me to first."

Fuck. Grabbing my keys now . . .

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Isabella, but Jerry needs you," some man says to her in the background.

He's inside her office.

He's close enough to see her and possibly touch her.

Shit!

I pick up my keys, settle them in my palm. "Isabella, who's in your office?"

"It's Eric," she replies.

"You are not to walk to Jerry's office with him. You tell him you'll be at Jerry's in just a moment, that you have to finish sending off an email you were in the middle of typing. If he argues with you, say it's time sensitive. I don't want that fuckhead touching or even breathing on you," I say, swallowing down a lump in my throat.

That man's interested in her. And I'm interested in him finding another planet to live on.

"Yes, Sir. I need to go."

"I want a text when you're back from Jerry's office. I want to know when you leave work today. Call me for that one. Clear?"

"Crystal, Sir. I will. Bye," she says.

"Bye, angel. I'll miss you more than you can know."

_Click._

I can barely breathe, and once I set my phone down, I'm wondering how the hell I'm gonna get any work done at all today.

.

.

.

When I pick her up for dinner she's wearing a white, flowing dress that hugs her curves deliciously. Angel is right. The name suits her, and I'm pretty sure she loves being called that, so I keep doing it, all to hear that little hitch in her voice right after I say it. Can't wait to see the facial expression that goes with it when we're at dinner tonight.

So beautiful and ethereal, the way she floats along.

"You look incredible," I tell her.

She blinks and her eyes shift away. Her cheeks glow with a rosy hue. "Thank you, Sir."

"We're gonna have fun tonight," I say, taking her around the waist and guiding her to my car. "I promise."

"I believe you. I can't imagine being with you and not being happy, Sir. You have this presence that . . ."

"Continue," I say, pulling her closer into my side as we walk.

"I don't know, Sir. I guess I was going to say it kind of calls to me."

"Well, Christ, that's about the best news I could hear."

I open her car door, help her in, and again, am awestruck at how the little movements she makes, have me damn near panting.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" I ask, leaning over and buckling her in. "One kiss, please, angel. Or I won't make it through the night." I run a hand across her shoulder.

My ass is hanging out the side of the car door since I'm still bent over her while she's seated inside.

"Permission isn't required, Sir. Green is my favorite color, like your eyes, and everything's very green when I'm with you . . ."

"Perfect answer," I breathe, and that's when my mouth can't devour her fast enough. Each time she inhales, my tongue pushes further.

My hands pin her wrists down on the seat, and she relaxes into it, giving in completely.

Oh, if I can stop touching and kissing her, I should be given a damn metal for self-control.

"Mmmnnnhh," she whimpers and leans forward as I bite her lower lip and pull a little.

I let go and give her a wicked grin. "Good Lord, do you have to be so fucking edible?" I chuckle and rest my forehead on hers.

She blinks, smiles and when she releases a breath she was holding, my dick gets so hard, I have to let go of her.

I really don't think she wants to fuck in my car. And what kind of animal am I? She's here to be fed food, not my cock.

_Twitch._

Dammit.

"Sir?"

"I'm debating." I pause and sigh. "Eating you out sounds much better than taking you out for Thai." I push away from her seat when she blushes once more. "That white dress and your flushing skin is gonna be the death of me."

"_Death_? Sir, I know CPR, if that helps?" She stifles a giggle.

I reach in and run the back of my hand across her cheek. "So beautiful."

"Thank you," she answers.

"Tell me to shut this door, Isabella. Tell me you want to go to dinner, or we won't leave, and you'll be naked and in my hands, coming on my face."

She bites her lip.

"_Well_?" I ask, a moment away from taking that decision from her.

"I'm debating . . . Do we have reservations, Sir?"

"Uuuungh!" I tip my head back and my eyes slide up in my head. "No, not at the restaurant, but I have reservations about tearing into you and it possibly scaring you off."

"Then what's the rush for dinner? I'm ready for you . . ." She allows herself a full giggle this time. "But just so you don't think I'm an easy lay, I think you should close the door. And, Sir?"

"Yes." I grip the door.

"I think you taste delicious, too." Her tongue darts out and tastes her moist bottom lip—where I left traces of myself behind.

My chest pounds, and I somehow manage to shut the door without bending the frame since my fingers were digging into it so hard.

Good thing. I'll need my fingers in working order for later, if she'll allow me touch her after the way I just lost control. She says she's ready, but is she really? She has no idea how intense I can be, and there are things we need to discuss and take care of first before we get to playing together.

I walk around the car, stiffer than my dick, and when I move into my seat she's actually looking directly at me.

"Something wrong? Did I hurt you when I kissed you?" I ask, reaching out and gripping her wrist. "Or did I hurt your hands? Was I pressing too hard?" Fuck!

"No, Sir. I liked all of those things. I'm just wondering if this is normal."

"_This_ being?"

"Falling for someone this quickly."

"Well, I can't seem to help myself. I'm sorry if I'm too aggressive," I say, breathing in so slow, I hope it'll dull the pain in my aching chest.

Her fingers wiggle, and I release her wrist.

"I'm sorry, Isabella. I didn't mean to frighten you."

_Idiot. No wonder she chose the restaurant over you. You're being too rough . . ._

"No, Sir, not frightened at all. And I wasn't speaking of you. I was referring to myself." She blinks and her eyes shift down to her hand, still clutching the edge of her seat.

"Oh, God . . . Tell me you feel this intense need to be with me, too. I swear, Bella, I have to be near you."

She smiles. "There's a reason I check my phone every ten minutes, Sir, and it's not to see what time it is. I keep hoping you'll call me again, and when I—"

My mouth is on hers, I've got her locked in my arms as I slide myself over into her seat and straddle her.

She keeps her arms at her sides, but her back arches off the seat and her feet are on tiptoe, her knees brushing up against my inner thighs, and so close to my cock.

"Let me taste you? After dinner?" I ask when I finally stop dipping my tongue into her mouth.

She nods, eyes heavy.

"And when you come, angel, I want it all over my face. I wanna smell it tomorrow even after I shower. I want your scent embedded in my skin. I won't accept anything less," I rasp.

"I'll do my best, Sir."

"I know you will."

Her legs part a little, but it's enough, and I know I'm a second away from fucking her so hard into the seat, I'll need a crowbar to get her back out when I'm done.

"Sorry I lost control, Sir," she says as I'm hauling my ass back over to my seat.

"You lost control?" I bark a laugh. "I think that was all on me."

"It was?" Her face pales.

"Hey, don't you blame yourself when I was the one on top of you, jamming my tongue in your mouth." I start the car and drive off, keeping my eyes on the road and away from her legs, now crossed.

"Okay." She sniffs and her head shifts toward the window.

Before we've even rounded the block, I've pulled over.

"What's going on? You look so stiff over there and about to cry. Should I take you back home? Did I really hurt you, and you're too nervous to tell me the truth?" I reach over, cup her chin and turn her to face me. "Look at me and give me a straight answer."

Her eyes trace up my chest and land on my eyes. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. It's me. I . . . Well, my previous Dom . . . Things didn't end well."

"You better give me more than that," I say softly, but firm enough she knows I'm not kidding here.

She sucks in a bit of air, holds her breath then her cheeks puff out when she lets it go. "He was cheating on me. We were living together, and a friend of mine had seen some strange women going into our apartment a few times while I was at work. I went home during the middle of the day, and I caught him with a woman chained to our St. Andrew's cross." A tear slips out of her left eye.

I catch the tear and whisk it away.

"And what did you do when you found him?"

"Well, first he asked me to join them, and that's when I started screaming incoherently that he'd better get his ass out of my place right away. He smiled, so I released her, grabbed a cane off the wall and beat him with it until he left. When the door closed, I shoved all his shit out the front door, got the locks changed, and the next day, I changed my phone number. I moved to a new place the next week." She looks at me like she's waiting for me to damn her for striking out at him.

"I wish you would've jammed that cane up his ass so he couldn't walk ever again, the _asshole_," I say.

"Really? You don't think I'm awful for doing that? It was pretty ugly, and it's not the way a sub should act," she says, her voice apologetic. "Sir, you forgive me?"

I laugh. "For what? Being strong, having self-respect and not putting up with his shit? Hell no. I won't forgive you for that, because I hope you'll do that again if any other Dom ever tries to fuck with your heart like that."

"We were together two years when that happened," she says then her face drops. "Oh, sorry, Sir. You didn't ask, and that was rude to share that."

I lean over and place a kiss at the corner of her mouth. "Fucking perfect. That's what you are."

"I think that about you, too," she says, beaming at me and her eyes water.

"And I'm glad you told me." I pause and look her over to make sure she's okay. She's relaxed, smiling and looks ready to leave. "Dinner?"

"Yes, Sir, please. Reminiscing about beating his ass makes me hungry. It was quite the workout."

"I know a better one, with far less clothes and no cheating dicks involved," I growl, and drive off.

**A/N:**

**I was asked to start a blog, and I was happy to do that, so the address now is up on my profile. I've posted the positions that are mentioned in previous chapters. Warning: not safe for work. Though the pics are not overly graphic, the woman is nude in most of the poses, even if it is done tastefully. I posted pics of these postures: classic damsel, sex kitten and others… In the future, when they start playing and using toys, I'll post pics and links for those as well.**

**Thanks so much for everyone who's following, reading, rec'ing and leaving wonderful reviews. I've tried to answer a few of them as I go along, but I've got a lot going on right now with it being the end of the school year for my kiddos. It's been very gratifying to know there are others out there that admire this lifestyle and think it's beautiful, too. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**Chanse**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Caged**

After dinner, I take her home, and keep warring with myself over what to do.

I don't want to scare her and be anything like this Mike idiot she tried to "beat" with a cane and told to leave.

But, God, my cock's screaming at me for just a small taste of her. With how good she smells above the waist, it's gotta be a fucking revelation down there between her folds.

My mouth waters, and I pull up in front of her place.

"Sir, may I speak freely?"

"You may." I turn to her.

"You told me what you'd like to do, but I—"

I hold up my hand. "It's fine. We don't have to do that. Now that you've told me so much about your previous experiences and your ex-Dom all throughout dinner, I think we should probably figure out what we want from each other. I don't want you to feel rushed or used."

Her face pales.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"No, nothing, Sir." She shakes her head.

I smirk. "Tell me."

"I was only going to say I should probably shower first, since you make me sweat so much," she says, and ducks her head, her face flushing. "I wasn't saying I didn't want to . . ."

I chuckle, my chest bouncing. "I'd like to make you sweat more, but I'm not thinking straight." I take a breath to steady myself. "In the past, I went with doing scenes on the weekend. If you agree to be my sub, I'd like to start with that and go from there. We need to discuss hard and soft limits, and I want you to know I never ever cheat. If things aren't working out I let my sub know rather than be unfaithful. You don't ever have to worry about coming home to find me with another woman."

She smiles and her eyes are soft and so understanding, my heart squeezes. "I know that, Sir. I have this feeling about you, and I know it sounds silly or silly, but I believe you. Every word."

"Do you agree this is how we should go forward? Are you willing to be my sub if we go over each other's lists and think we're compatible?" My breathing shallows. Even if our lists aren't well suited for each other, I may have to consider what I'd do to have her. I might be willing to do just about anything for her, she makes me so crazy.

"Sir, you had me a long time ago," she replies.

"_When_?" My voice breaks, and I don't give a shit.

"The first time you set a hand on my desk and gave me a look like you already knew I'd taste good on your tongue, I knew . . . I knew I wanted those hands on me and your tongue, too. But, Sir, I didn't touch myself. I didn't think you'd like that."

"Fuck . . . Isabella. You might as well have just told me you did, you've got me even harder than usual. And that's breaking records." I smile. "I'm walking you inside. Tomorrow night we'll get together again. I'll come here to your place. We'll discuss limits, draw up an agreement, and after that, I may need to figure out exactly where I want to chain you in my house, because I need to touch you—_often_." _And come inside you more times than you can count . . ._

She sucks her bottom lip in, and when she releases it with a faint _pop_, I twitch so hard, I have to stifle a moan.

I get out of the car, assist her and when we get to her front door, I've got her caged with my palms set on either side of her head. She breathes so hard, I wonder how her little body can still be standing.

"Palms on the door, angel. I'm only gonna touch you a little," I warn.

She flattens her hands instantly to the frame. Her quickness to respond and give in, has my body closing in on her.

"Good girl. So eager to please. I bet you'll be even quicker when I tell you to get your ass in the air and I've got a spreader bar at the ready." I blow across her mouth.

She fights off a shiver.

"Cold?"

"Hot, and very, very green. So fucking green I'm living in the jungle, Sir."

"Ah, so it's sweltering in that foliage, is it?"

She giggles.

I laugh and push off the door, creating distance between us.

Her face drops. "But, Sir . . . You said you would touch me a little," she whispers, and it borders on a whine.

"Did I say when I planned to do that?" I smirk; place a hand on my hip.

"Well, no, but . . ." She huffs, and when I take a menacing step toward her, she curls back into the door; her hands splayed out once more, up against the wood. "Sorry, Sir."

"Don't be. I'm glad to know where we stand. You want it. You want me, and I'm very pleased to hear that. It won't be long. Trust me." I lean in and whisper in her ear, "And once I've had you, it'll never be enough. That pussy's mine. Damn right you don't get to touch it. No one does but me." I take a step back. "Night, Isabella. Go straight to bed. Call me in the morning when you wake up."

"Night, Sir; I will." She opens her door, peeks at me once shyly before closing it.

And I almost limp to my car, because there's never been this much blood trapped for so long in one area of my body in my life without me purposefully trapping it there.

.

.

.

When I arrive at Isabella's house, she is nothing but smiles and offering me drinks and a comfortable place to sit.

Her home has this warm, stimulating vibe about it. It's relaxing, yet it arouses me, and I don't even think it's on purpose. It's just her.

She does that to me.

And this place is in essence, nothing but her. I'm saturated in her aura because it's all around me.

It's hard not to rip her clothes off, and with each passing second, I struggle all the more.

"Do you have something for me?" I ask.

"Yes, Sir. My list is all filled out and ready to go." She walks over to me, offers it, and I extend my palm. She slips it into my hand, and I gesture for her to sit on the couch with me.

She takes a seat two feet away.

I hand her my list as well.

We take a few minutes to silently read through it, and my eyes continually go wide as my heart palpitates like mad over how similar we are in our tastes.

My back and chest heat with excitement, and my breathing is very exaggerated.

Can I throw this damn paper down now and spread those fucking legs?

I settle the paper in my lap, turn my head and watch her in fascination.

She's smiling through a half bitten lip. Her legs are crossed, and once more, her posture's perfect.

She giggles.

_Fuck. Do it again, angel . . ._

"What's so funny?" I ask, grinning.

"I can't stop wondering how I wound up with you here in my home." Her eyes drift over to me, and she looks like she's having the time of her life.

"I think you know how this happened . . . Anything else of particular amusement to you?" I settle back into the cushion like I may be here for a while.

"Only your smile, Sir. I hope to see more of it."

"Well, I'm warning you—I'm a picky bastard at times." I smile.

"I'm happy to tell you, Sir, this girl's pretty easy to get along with. It doesn't take a lot for her to be happy," she says, and beams back. "And whenever I'm near you, it seems to be automatic. I don't even have to try—it simply feels like home, and it feels right to me."

When my fingers roam across the back of her soft hand, she sits up even straighter.

Is that even possible?

I inch closer to her.

"Sounds like I've definitely found an angel." I smile bigger. Too fucking good to be true.

She turns her palm over, and I interlock our fingers together.

"Do we need to discuss this list in detail, or are there certain aspects you think we should cover and then call it good?" _Slow down, fucker. You're going way too fast and you're getting sloppy because your cock's rushing you!_

"I've done this before, so it's fine with me, Sir, if you want to just cover the most important ones," she answers.

"Easy to make happy? Easy to live with? Easy to make _come_? Hmm . . . ? Or are you gonna make me work for that?" I say, my voice thick with need and low with want.

She sits motionless, her eyes half lidded, mouth parted and her breathing deep in her belly. Her hand is so relaxed as I hold it, I swear she's already submitting completely like her bones have melted at my command.

God! I wish I'd met her years ago when I'd first started living this lifestyle. I never would've let her go.

"The list, Sir," she says, voice shaky, and I can hear in her sexy timber, exactly how wet that pussy is.

"The only thing I saw we disagreed on was canes."

She frowns. A second later, she erases it off her face, but it was there.

I chuckle. "That bad, huh?"

"After beating Mike with one, I don't think I can ever look at another cane again. I feel sick just thinking of how I went after him. But I was so pissed, Sir. I couldn't think straight. I've never been that angry in my life. I wanted him to leave my place, or what was _our_ place, and get hit by a bus immediately, and that's just not Christian!"

I burst into a roaring laugh. _Christian_? Is she serious? My Lord, how I love the way her mind works.

"God, you are too fucking adorable," I say, and before she can wipe the shocked look off her face, I've snatched the papers out of the way, flung them to the floor, and I'm on top of her, kissing those insanely perfect lips.

She allows me to pin her arms to her side, spread her legs with mine and do whatever the fuck I want with my brazen dick that suddenly wants to rub every part of her body.

"Getting rid of the canes is fine. I'll trash them tonight when I get home," I breathe between kisses. "Say you're mine, Isabella. I need to hear it." My dick grinds into her right thigh. "Nnnnmmugh," I groan as she takes her time.

"I can't, Sir. Not until we sign something. Then it's official."

"Fuck those papers. I need to hear it. Tell me who you belong to." I reach down and dig my hand into her hip to steady her as I pummel my cockhead into her clothed clit.

"This girl belongs to Sir. And Edward's the only one she wants to touch her, to speak to her, to breathe on her," she says, her eyes going dark and heavy.

And that's all I need.

I slide down her body, and show this good girl I can take excellent care of her.

My dick can wait.

I'm tasting my angel for the first time.

"Spread," I say.

Her thighs roll out, and her legs are not only flexible, but her toes are pointed perfectly, and those slender legs make me crazy.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm marking her, biting up her right inner thigh.

Her soft gasps and tiny jerking movements, make me so rock hard, I can barely stand it.

As I approach the dip between her pussy and her inner leg, I lick hard repeatedly with the flat of my tongue in the tenderest area, desensitizing the spot I especially want to leave my stamp on.

I suck, I nip, and when her leg rises and falls in perfect sync with my mouth, I clamp down.

"Ohhhhoohh gawwwwwd!" she whimpers.

And that's when I shove two fingers inside her.

"Wet for me—I knew you would be. You want this, Isabella. You want me to unleash you," I say, going back to bite that spot once more. I want it darker. Want it so raw and ragged, when she touches it tomorrow, it'll flood her head with nothing but images of me, breaking in her body for me and my needs.

My mouth greedily sucks in as much as flesh as it can, and I continue to bite.

When she exhales like it's starting to burn too much, I release with a pop, and drag a moist line with my tongue up to the top of her clit's hood.

"This looks like a really tight fit for me—I'm happy about that, but first I wanna see how you do with more of my fingers," I say.

She stares at me, bright-eyed and almost in bewilderment. Her dusky tongue darts out and when it retreats, it's replaced with her teeth.

I pump my fingers in and out until they're soaked, and each time they pull almost all the way out, I lave my tongue over them to clean them off.

"Oh, fucking delicious—my candy girl," I lilt.

I slip another finger inside, and she's so damn relaxed, I swear I could do absolutely anything to her, and she'd be fine with it.

Suddenly, my head's bombarded with all sorts of images of things I want to try.

But what overrides it all is a vision of her body almost levitating as she has a screaming, mind-wiping orgasm.

Another finger.

Four of them, my thumb tucked under, and she tightens for the briefest moment, probably in shock since I gave no warning.

"Angel, grab your nipples right now. Pinch and roll them with your eyes closed, until I tell you otherwise," I say.

Her eyes go wide and then close. She looks uncomfortable at first touching herself, but once I start thrusting my fingers inside her again, she lets go and she pants.

"That's good. Real good. Concentrate on what you're doing—imagine those are my fingers, my lips, my teeth." I watch as her face flushes, and that's my cue.

She's getting ready to come. I pull my fingers out of her, retrieve the small bottle of silicone lube in my pocket and squirt it all over my hand. I set the bottle aside.

_Shhhhhuuuuffff . . ._

My entire hand presses in on those soft tissues, making a suction sound. I make sure my fingers are all glued together.

A little in, then a slight withdrawal, then a little further in, then barely out, then just a little further, and God, she's breathtaking—the way her body glows and gives in . . . and after a few more pulses, I'm right there.

My knuckles are right at the ring of muscles inside her entrance.

She exhales, and her eyes shut tight.

I rock my hand with tiny, delicate motions. And in the next breath, I'm there. All the fucking way.

She gasps, her body rises for a second and she almost tries to scoot away from me, until I curl my fingers into a natural fist. I smile and the temperature of my body ratchets up several notches.

She's sublime—the most gorgeous woman ever, taking my hand all the way inside her.

I gently open and close my fist, using a slow, undulating motion. When I twist my wrist a little, my thumb brushes against her G-spot.

"Ohhhhhh fuck—it's too much, it's . . . Oh God, I can't . . . I haven't done this before . . . And I . . ."

"Deep breath . . . Pinch your nips right now," I say.

She ignores me, her head lolls back and forth, and it's evident she's fighting this. That G-spot of hers must be ready to explode if it's that sensitive.

I lean over and bite her opposite inner thigh.

"Christ!" she shouts.

"Nipples. Now."

When she gives a halfhearted attempt, I pinch her clit with my other hand.

"Shhhiiiiiiit!" she yelps, her ass flexing, and it makes her pussy clamp down hard on my hand.

Her chest spasms, and she starts to almost hyperventilate.

"Deep breaths, angel. You can do this," I say. I run the pad of my thumb up and down her clit and silence my hand inside her until she can forget it's even there.

The muscles will figure out what's going on and adjust.

"Mmmmnnnhh," she moans, and her head's shaking back and forth, her eyes tightly shut again. "Oh, God . . . I can't . . . Please! Oh, please, Sir . . ."

"Please, what? You want me to take my hand out of you?"

"Is it gonna hurt?" she whimpers.

"It's gonna feel like nothing you've ever felt before, and I'm gonna love every second of seeing your body almost launch off the floor, it's that fucking good," I say, smirking. I read her list. She's no pain slut, and I don't relish administering straight pain. Of course it's gonna feel euphoric. What else would I want to give her? I want her begging for more—for _me_.

She tries to settle, to catch her breath, but instead, she gets more worked up.

"Good girl. So beautiful, trying so hard to please me." My heart swells at the sight of her.

"I don't think I can . . . I mean, I . . . I don't know," she says, incoherent.

I wave my fingers right over that juiced up, plump G-spot, and she grips both tits like she's going to rip them off then she bites into her fleshy lower lip.

"Angel . . . You can do this. You already are, and you're doing really well."

"I . . . Oh God."

"Relax."

Her hands loosen from the fists she was making.

"Good. Loose. Limp. So good, angle." I inhale and blow across her skin, creating goose bumps. "I'm gonna make you come this way first, then you'll deal with the rest of what I wanna give you," I say, giving her a stern look.

She nods, and there's a look of fear, crossed with longing.

"Trust me . . . You're gonna feel so good after this, you'll be praying I fist you regularly," I say. "And you might hope to eventually have it up the ass. That's fun, too."

She swallows and relaxes her head back down. Her hands go limp on her tits.

"That's my good girl. So fucking gorgeous," I say, voice low and raspy.

I graze my thumb across her clit a few times and it calms her down.

Backing off is difficult, when I can think of nothing else but her flying apart when she comes with my fist inside her.

"It's intense—it's fucking overwhelming, because it's me doing this to you. My touch does this to you, Angel. My touch puts you in a frenzy, and all you want is more and more and more. And I'm so crazy for you, all I want to do is give it to you." I caress her G-spot ever so gingerly, my fist moving inside her once more. I set my other hand on her inner thigh, to keep her in place.

Her head bobs for a second like she's soaking up everything I say.

"This tight little pussy was sick of vanilla. Even Mike didn't know what to do with it—the stupid asshole. But I know—I'm your Dom, and I know you so well already. I know—" I nip at that spot I've bitten repeatedly "—you want to please me, and you want to give me the biggest fucking orgasm of your life."

And that's when I press my fist into that G-spot and she not only squirts onto my leg with her juices flying out of her, she convulses.

"Ooooohhhhh—oh God—oh my fucking shit . . ." she cries.

I carefully pull my hand out, fingers long and tucked together as her orgasm is at its peak, and suddenly, her hips jump, and her voice goes up another octave.

"_Ahhhhhhh_! God noooo!" she wails.

_Twitch, twitch._

My leg is wet in several spots, and not all of it is from her gushing pussy.

After she thrashes a few more seconds, her breathing starts to even out and her body goes limp, her eyes settle on me.

Her expression is unreadable for a moment, and her eyes are half closed.

After a few breaths she looks so drugged, I chuckle.

"Good?"

"Un-fucking-believable," she says, breathless.

"Want to do that again someday, my sweet girl?"

"I think I can pencil you in everyday, Sir." She smiles.

And my heart floats. It floats, and I think it may never come back.

My angel's taken it away.

**A/N:**

**Good for you? If it was, tell me. He's got more tricks that are not for kids, up his sleeves. I guarantee it…**

**I posted her kink list on my blog if you're curious to see what she likes and doesn't. The link for the blog's on my profile. Everyone has hard limits—even me. Shocking, I know…**

**Also, will now be posting regular teasers for **_**Cuffs**_ **for the following chapter on my blog, in case you're eager for more.**

**Chanse**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Tilted**

All week long, the only thing I can think about is that taste. She has me hard all the time.

I call her sporadically throughout the day, probably keeping her from being productive at work, but I can't seem to find it in me to care.

I need to hear her—need to know she's mine, and that she's dying to see me again, too.

Her weeknights were already spoken for, and like an ass, I complain about it, even though I'm the one that told her we'd only scene on weekends, since that was my standard set up with previous subs.

Already it's not enough.

"Fuck—that's pretty," I say, prepping my playroom for her.

Tonight she's coming to my place.

I lean in and inhale deeply.

Leather and Bella. Fucking lovely.

The only thing it's missing is our come.

To be rectified shortly.

I pull out my phone and read through our last few texts.

Birth control was an issue we had to work out, but it should be fine.

I stare at the rubbers sets aside. God, I hate those shitty things, but for her, I'll do it.

She can't do any kind of hormonal birth control. I accept that. I accept all that she is.

My hands run through my hair, and I pace.

Shouldn't she be here already?

This is why I usually go to my sub's. I hate waiting.

Patience is uglier than any four letter word I've ever heard.

_Ding, ding, ding . . ._

The doorbell catches my attention, and I walk—I don't run—but in a very quick way, move to get the door.

As I open it the most amazing aroma hits me.

My mouth drops open. "Oh my God, that's got my name and my hard on written all over it," I say, my eyes dropping to a plateful of Snickerdoodles.

"Cookies for Sir. I heard he loves these in particular," she says, holding them out to me.

"And he loves them even more when he crumbles them over his submissive's body and licks them off her," I say. I reach out and grab her by the wrist, dragging her inside.

She keeps the plate steady, and once again, I'm impressed with her balance and the grace with which she moves.

"Ready to play?" I ask, my eyebrows bouncing at her.

"With you, Sir? Always . . ." Her right shoulder bunches up and she gives a little giggle that's nothing but a direct stroke to my cock.

We wander into the kitchen.

"God, you're gonna kill me with how sweet you are."

"Good thing you've got a sweet tooth, then, isn't it? Put you out of your misery quicker, Sir. Hopefully it'll be relatively painless." She grins.

I growl and pinch her ass.

She sets the plate of cookies down on the counter next to her. My eyes follow her every motion.

I pinch again. She jumps a little and pushes her cheek back into my hand.

And I can't take it. I shove her against the wall, have both her hands over her head, pinned by one of mine, and my other hand's dragging her skirt up until I'm slipping my fingers inside her silky panties.

"My sweet tooth is worse, now that I've tasted your candy. This pussy's got all the sugar I need." I drag my teeth along the side of her neck.

She tips her head back so I can roam freely.

Her chest stutters as she takes in a giant lungful of air.

I flutter my fingertips across her outer labia, and nibble at her neck, right below her ear.

"You pick tonight what it'll be—more vaginal fisting but with a twist, my mouth making you come, or my cock, and me coming inside you." I use my tongue to swing the bottom of her lobe back and forth.

"So many choices, Sir, I don't think I can pick," she teases.

I press the pad of my index finger up against her clit until her eyes go wide.

"That's gotta be uncomfortable—and that's not what I want. I want you to cry, scream and beg, because you love what I'm doing to you, so pick. Think hard because you're not getting all three," I say.

Her eyelashes flutter for a second and then fan out across the tops of her cheeks as she looks down and is deep in thought. "Well, I kind of have a problem, Sir. I should've told you sooner, but I didn't know what to say."

"What is it?" I relieve a little bit of the pressure on her clit, but not much, only enough to make it more bearable.

"I'm having a hard time concentrating," she says. My jaw tightens and my teeth grind. "I wanna be here with you, Sir, enjoying our first scene together, but it's just that . . ." She looks away and guilt floods her eyes. "Mike contacted me today."

"That fucker did _what_?" I release her clit, and I'm sure it's throbbing. Much like my chest with my heart trying to burst out of my ribcage.

She tucks her head down. "Yeah, he came to my work with some flowers. I told him—I said I was with somebody, and it was too late, Sir, but he wouldn't listen. He tried to—"

"To _what_?" I snap. "Did he touch what's mine? Did he lay one grimy finger on you?"

"He kept saying we belong together, that he was sorry, and then he tried to kiss me, but I turned away, but his mouth catch the edge of my cheek. I ran away, and when I got home, I washed it off. And all I could think about was how disgusting he is, and how I only want you. So, I made you some cookies in hopes you'll forgive me and still want me even the tiniest little bit." Her eyes flood and she looks a second away from crying.

"That man is the biggest douche I've ever heard of."

"Are you mad at me, Sir?" She glances up at me through her lashes, her shoulders curling forward.

The look of utter devastation when I fail to answer quick enough, has my heart bending toward her, just to get closer.

No wonder he wants her back. No damn kidding. I'd die if I ever let her go, and I'm barely getting to know her. The thought of her ending what we have, has me ready to tear this place down.

"I'm not mad at you—I'm mad at _him_. Next time he comes anywhere near you, call me right away. Don't even speak to him. He's toxic to you—do you hear me? He's poison to your system. And I won't allow him to corrupt what's mine." I grab her tight to my chest. "You. Are. Mine. And there's not one single man that can take you from me."

Without any prompting from me, she runs a single fingertip up my wrist and continues up my arm. "This girl belongs to Edward. He has her completely wrapped up in him."

"Fucking right!" I growl.

I pick her up, haul her into my playroom.

My hands shred her clothes off, and I all but slam her up against my padded St. Andrew's Cross.

"_Color_, my beautiful angel?"

"Green . . . Like your mesmerizing eyes, Sir," she says, beaming, her body relaxed and flushed a beautiful rose color.

"Green, because I don't think I could stop if I even fucking wanted to, unless you absolutely forbid me and safeword." I run ropes around her wrists, and she stays motionless. "Tell me now—do you trust me?"

"Yes, Sir. Implicitly."

"Do you want this? You want me to ravage this body?" I trace a line down her inner arm with the tip of my tongue.

She shivers and smiles at me.

"This girl wants Sir to make her believe she lives only for this—and nothing else."

"Fuck . . ." I groan and palm myself for a second. "Goddammit, Isabella. No wonder that prick came after you. What the hell was he thinking to ever lose you?" I lean in and pinch the tip of her pussy, right at the fatty padding above the top of her clit. "He's a spineless, dickless moron. And I refuse to spend one more second thinking about him or talking about what he did."

She nods, and her eyes shine with unshed tears, but it's not sadness, because her eyes resemble those of a woman found after being lost and almost on the edge of ruin. It's gratitude.

I recognize it because that's exactly how I feel, too.

Before I go nuts thinking about him trying to kiss her today, I crouch down and fasten her legs to the cross.

"Comfortable?" I ask. I run two fingers inside and around each of her bindings.

"Very, Sir. The pressure is perfect."

I run a hand up her leg. "You're perfect, and I'm gonna have fun finding out exactly how much. I want you to talk to me throughout since this is our first scene together. Speak freely, unless I ask you to stop. I want lots of feedback."

She nods. "But I . . . I'm not perfect, Sir. You have to use condoms now, and you hate those. You told me you—"

I stand up, cut her a warning look and she seals her lips shut.

"You told me about your past health problems with hormonal birth control, so I chose. I don't need my sub risking getting blood clots in her legs because I wanna be an asshole and go bareback. It's fine. We already discussed it, so this topic is closed." I kiss her with soft lips but make it firm enough she knows I'm in charge.

Her head follows after me, leaning forward as I pull away, her bottom lip caught in my teeth. I slide my grip off and smirk.

"So beautiful," I say.

"And _so_ yours, Sir. Do what you wish to this girl."

I give her another kiss, but this time, my tongue teases at the seam until she opens, and that's when I pull away.

Her lower lip juts out.

"You'll get more later," I say. "Believe me—I'll be kissing you so much, you'll be begging to come up for air." I chuckle at the pleading, impatient look she gives me.

She still pouts, so I pull out the guests for this party tonight.

I set out a ceramic iron round brush, the largest size I could find. Next to that, I place two sets of anal beads, tied together at the end and some ben wah balls. I tuck the end of the brush in my pocket.

"I love your hair, angel, almost as much as that gorgeous body of yours. I want to touch it," I say. I bend down and unlatch the bottom of the cross so I can tilt it back.

She gasps with a sound of excitement when it moves.

I set it in place, hook the proper attachments together so it'll remain motionless in this spot.

She watches me with rapt attention as I approach her head and loom over those pretty lips. I give her a peck on the corner of her mouth and raise up about two inches, my face right in front of hers.

"Comfy?"

"Very, Sir. Thank you," she responds.

"Good. Relax. You're gonna be here for a while."

Her eyebrows raise and she smiles like she's absolutely delighted to hear it.

I pull the brush back out of my pocket, and move down to her feet. When the metal spikes of the hairbrush land softly on the top of her foot, her breath hitches. I roll it up toward her ankle then keep a steady sweep riding up her leg. At the knee, I round it down to her inner thigh, and she pants the closer I get to her pussy.

At the cusp, I remove it, and though her hairs are kept trim and short, I brush them anyway, going against the grain.

Fuck! Gooseflesh prickles right under those hairs, and I can see every last one of them.

"Beautiful. Such a good girl," I say.

"I like this, Sir."

"That's a green, then," I reply, chuckling deep in my chest. The brush moves back and forth, scratching lightly at the pad covering her pubic bone.

I swear there are goose bumps on top of goose bumps. It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen. I blow across her mons, and she squirms.

"Very good girl," I say, smiling.

"Very good Dom," she says, giggling and beaming at me.

"Shhh . . . You're gonna make my head too big. Both of them," I say, chuckling louder this time.

"That's what every good girl hopes for, Sir." Her cheeks glow as they move up from her smile, taking over her face.

"You are very distracting, little subbie, with that gorgeous mouth of yours." My eyes burn into her as I picture her with her panties stuffed in her mouth, but I'm not ready to do that yet. I'm enjoying hearing her feedback too much.

"Sorry, Sir. This girl will keep her big mouth shut from now on, unless she's given the command to put something inside her mouth."

"Je-zuuus," I hiss and my eyes roll up in my head.

_Twitch. Twitch._

She giggles once more, and the twitching continues.

I take a deep breath, let it settle in my gut and then roll the brush up her navel and circle it for a moment there around her belly button.

When I glance up, her eyes are half closed, so filled with liquid heat, my entire body aches for her.

I twirl the brush up to her left breast and she sucks in some air when the bristles lightly abrade her nipple.

"Nice . . . Very lovely," I say.

Her eyes watch the brush and my hand like she's transfixed.

It travels on, up her chest, over the edge of her jaw then up to her hairline.

I give her long, gentle strokes through her hair, hanging over the edge of the side of the cross.

Her eyes drift closed, and her breathing deepens along with evening out.

I run the fingers of my other hand through her roots and scratch at her scalp with soft, digging movements.

She almost purrs at my touch.

I lean over and kiss her while I keep brushing, finger combing and making her sink into a trance-like state.

She opens her mouth to me the second I move to open mine.

Her breath is humid and hard when my tongue strokes hers with lush caresses.

Breathless, and appearing drunk off what I'm doing to her, I pull away for a moment to get a better eyeful. I wanna commit this to memory.

"That's right . . . Good girl. Let it all sink into your bones. Take it all in," I say.

She licks her lips, tasting what's left of me.

I can't take it anymore. This beast needs to taste her.

With my free hand, I run a finger across her slit to see how wet she is. Fuck—drenched and ready.

I take the brush, grab it by the bristles and slowly insert the handle into her pussy. Her lower back arches for a moment then melts back into the cross. I lean over and lap at her clit, pushing the hood up more with each lick.

As I start pumping the brush in her pussy, she moans softly and a few curses escape her lips.

I grasp the tip of her exposed clit by sucking it in. Once it's further in my mouth, I flick the tip over and over with my tongue.

"Oh, shiiiiit . . . Oh God . . . Sir, may I . . . I'm gonna . . . Oh fuuuuuck!"

A throaty chuckle takes over—I can't fucking help it. She's so cute.

I don't answer her and enjoy watching her fight off an impending orgasm she knows she's not allowed to have without my say so.

_Flick . . . Flick . . . Flick . . . _So slick and creamy.

_Shuuum . . . Shuuum . . . Shuuum . . ._ My hand keeps pumping the handle that has slight ridges in it.

"Please . . . Sir—please!" she whines, her eyes open and she pulls her head up so she can see me.

I shake my head.

She plops her head back down, smacking it against the wood.

"Oooooh fucking Christ," she cries, and tears are right there. "What did I do wrong?"

I let go of her clit.

"This isn't a punishment, sweetie. I only wanted to see how far I could take you before you fell off the edge." I remove the brush.

She's done with this portion. Time to move on.

Didn't expect her to be quite this responsive and get to the edge so quickly.

I smile and my chest heats. My mouth waters at the thought of how much fun I'm gonna have with her over the next few weeks.

_Weeks? How about months? Years? Why limit this?_

My shoulders tighten, and I clear my head, focusing on her immobilized in front of me.

I pat her leg to reassure her. "You did everything right. I'll give you what you want."

I unhook the latches and lower the cross. When it's back to vertical, I re-secure it and release her.

She almost collapses into me when I grip her in a tight hug.

"Bedtime, angel. I'm gonna send you to Heaven." I smile and push her hair over her shoulder with my shaking fingers. I'm so fucking hard and full of adrenaline, I can barely keep still.

I pick her up and carry her over to the bed then lay her down.

"Cuffs," I say.

She nods.

"Tell me if they're too tight." I move over to the dresser next to the bed, open the top drawer and unwrap the two sets of new black leather cuffs I bought specifically for her.

I run my fingers over the fleece inner-lining. So soft, like her.

My balls tighten and my chest warms considerably as I set the buckles in place on each of her wrists and ankles. I loop ropes through the O-rings and secure her to the bed posts.

"Feel good?" I slip a finger inside one of the ankle cuffs.

"Perfect, Sir. It feels good."

I check the other ankle cuff and she confirms that one is great as well.

A low hum builds in my chest as I stand and stare. Does she have any idea how stunning she is?

I grab the anal beads I tied together, the ben wah balls and also grab a bottle of lube with a pump dispenser.

"Oh, my good girl's ready for me. I can see how wet she is already," I say.

She blinks and smiles.

I coat my finger in lube and settle on the bed between her spread out legs.

My slickened finger probes her anus, playing at the entrance.

Her lips part and her bottom relaxes into the mattress after several moments of this play.

I press one finger in, and her flesh willingly accepts it. It's a snug fit, but she's not fighting against it. Her sphincters are adjusting well.

"Very nice—good girl. Taking whatever I give you because you know it'll be amazing." I reach for the ben wah balls I set out on the bed and the lube. A squirt to the balls, though she hardly needs it, and I slip them inside her pussy.

Her hips jump when they're inserted, but once again, she lets go directly after her initial reaction.

The way she can dissolve into my hands is breathtaking.

I keep a steady, pumping rhythm in her ass with two fingers. She builds nicely once more toward an orgasm, just like she did before when I had her on the cross.

When I think she's ready, I lubricate then press one end of the anal beads into her anus and the other end into her cunt.

"You're gonna feel this all way down to your toes, my sweet girl." I grab a condom out of my pocket, rip it open with my teeth. And in the next second, my cock's out, covered, and I'm pressing my head into her pussy slit.

"Take a deep breath, angel," I say, and then . . . Fuck! So tight.

I strain my neck back as I fight off my body's instinct to jam myself into her so hard I'd bruise and batter her inner walls.

Slow, tiny, methodical pulses, moving those balls on both ends.

She gasps, she writhes, she's so close to coming undone.

"Don't come yet. You do not have permission to give me your orgasm." I lean over and bite into the slender curve of her neck.

"Sir . . . Please, oh God. It's so full . . ." she whimpers. "And I can feel it moving in my ass, too." She shuts her eyes, and when they open again, they're so bright and filled with unshed tears and unspeakable, intense emotions, I stop breathing for a moment.

I stroke across her right nipple with the back of my left fingers then set my hand next to her head for support before I really start to move in her.

"Blow out . . . You can do this; hold on." I plunge deep but slower than she'd probably like.

Steady.

She needs to adjust.

Oh God.

More.

Slick.

Wanting.

Tight.

So greedy—her cunt—and it's _mine_.

All mine.

Harder.

I thrust a little more, until I can't possibly go any deeper.

Such a petite little girl, but so perfect.

_Shhhick, shhhhick. Shhhick, shhhhick._

The balls tap together inside her, moving along the nylon string.

I smile.

"You feel that. You feel me rolling those balls around inside your body as I fuck you? They're massaging your come right out of you, whether you want them to or not. But you can't come yet, because," I slip myself out, "I'm not," I push back in hard and fast—she moans, "done with you," I'm out, "yet!" I'm back in.

I groan deep and low, and my neck strains as I clench my jaw to fight off my own orgasm.

My hips angle back, and really piston me forward, sliding her a few inches up the mattress when I plow into her.

Her wrists tug at the restraints, and her legs jerk. Her lips part and a whoosh of air releases out of her gut like she was holding her breath.

"I'm sorry, S-sir, I can't stop it . . ." she whispers.

Her head rolls from side to side, and she wears an anguished expression, a little pained. Her lips tighten into a thin, worried line and her eyes crease at the corners.

I take a deep breath and grip into her hips with my hands so I can go even harder.

Her cunt clamps down and starts to grip my cock, so I make it even tighter, by dipping my head down and biting her right nipple.

Fuck!

She screams, and begs, and her body almost flies apart.

And that's when I tell her, "Come! Soak these goddamn sheets—drench my cock, my angel girl." I bite her again. "Do it!"

Her muscles hit me with wave after wave as she explodes into the most beautiful orgasm I've ever seen. Warm slippery fluids gush out of her and spread onto her thighs, then rub onto mine as I continue to assault her with my dick.

I thrust my hand down, yank that string out of her ass, and oh God, she caterwauls, her fingers digging into her palms as she tries to fist her restraints.

"Ooooohhhhhhh fuuu-uuck! Oh God, I . . . It's too m-muuuuch!" she grits.

Her nipples are so tight, and the one I bit is red. I lick it and suck it into my mouth as I pulse inside her.

When she goes limp, I tug at her nipple, and a few aftershocks rock through her pussy, milking me a little bit more.

"Goddamn . . . I knew you were right for me the second I saw you," I breathe. I collapse onto her, nuzzle her neck and suck weakly at her racing pulse.

"I knew you were right for me the second your eyes lit up when I called you Sir. I just didn't think you'd ever really be interested in me," she says through a sigh.

"You have five minutes, and then we're moving on to something better . . . You've got health insurance, right?"

She giggles and my cock bounces inside her.

"Yes, Sir, but I think I better make sure I have a good accidental death and dismemberment policy, because my left foot has lost all feeling."

Shit! I jump off her and set her free.

"Worth it," she says.

And I smack her thigh. "Not to me it's not. You have to keep all your limbs." I pull off the condom, tie it off and drop it in the wastebasket next to the bed.

"I'll try to remember that, Sir." She puckers. "My limbs are all at your service."

And I think I'm hard again. Fuck.

**A/N:**

**Anybody else seen the movie Exit to Eden with Rosie O'Donnell from ages ago? I know it's a comedy, but I love the scene when Elliott gets spanked with the hairbrush. Holy crap! The look on his face… (Love the scene when she sits on his back, too and uses him as his chair after she just went skinny dipping.)**

**I like to imagine that later on, they re-enacted that scene, but the second time, she lubed that handle up and penetrated him with it. That's what I would've done. Just sayin'…**

**Here's the link. Remove spaces: www . Metacafe watch / 1345126 / exit _ to _ eden _ elliots _ bondage _ scene/ Or go to my blog. I have it on there.**

**I've been asked to make a kink list for Edward. I'm going to have to decline and leave that to your lovely imagination. I won't even presume I could make a decent kink list for a Dom. I already need to explain some things seen on contradictions on Bella's list, that were put there on purpose. I'll try to do a new blog post on that as soon as I can.**

**Also, I've been asked if this story got kicked off fan fic, where would I put it. The answer is my blog. If any one of my Chanse Lowell stories has this happen, that's where they'd go.**

**I know some people were hoping for a more in depth conversation about birth control and them talking a lot about the kink lists. For flow purposes and pacing, I chose to cut through a lot of that. It happened, those long, detailed conversations, but we all know this is an Edward and Bella story, so we know they'll be together, and the kink list is a starting point. A place to start discussions. It's not supposed to cause a lot of turmoil, heartache or anything like that in this story, so it's not a huge point of the plot. I realize in other stories it might be, but this story is low angst (at least for me and my writing it is) and the focus is on how they connect, how they play together. Let's get to the good stuff, shall we…? Maybe down the line I'll write that as an outtake if anyone is interested in seeing it. I'm sure some of you wanted more details on the playroom, but that was left out on purpose. More of the playroom to come, I promise. (Oooh, I like how naughty that sounded and the pun was fun, too.)**

**And, yes, I know in this chapter, Bella should have told him her foot was falling asleep there at the end, but, damn, would you have stopped him? Especially when this was their first time and they've both been dying to get naked and sweaty together? Uh, yeah… I think I have to say hell no, I would not stop that man in this instance. Not a chance.**

**Tell me what you think...**

**Chanse**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Knotted**

She lives an hour away.

I have no right to be pissed about it, but I am.

Constantly.

That's an hour we waste trying to get to each other.

I'm clawing at my hair as I drive over, ready to surprise her.

I haven't seen her in three days.

Three dragging, tiring, mind-numbing days.

I'm going out of my mind.

I call her constantly, text and generally make myself a pain in the ass.

She's ever gracious about it, responding enthusiastically, but I'm sure she's sick to death of my pathetic ass being nothing but a nuisance.

I speak to her, and it's like the air moves through my stagnant lungs again.

I have no idea what she's done to me, but I'm so wrapped up in her, I can barely function at this point.

Yes, I go to work, get the jobs done. It's always temporary, since I roam to a different location whenever I'm needed somewhere else, but my heart's not in it anymore.

I glance at my gift on the seat next to me and drive a little faster.

She likes classical music. My heart races.

In my car the last time I took her out to eat, her eyes lit up at my choices of song.

Most women either don't notice or it almost sedates them.

Not her. When the strings play, she glows.

My chest tightens.

What if she's picky? What if this was a stupid idea?

No, it'll be fine.

I straighten my tie and almost jump out of my seat when I have to swerve so I don't hit the car in front of me.

"Learn how to drive, asshole," I mutter, glaring at the car in front of me.

The more urgent I am, and the faster I try to drive, the more clogged the traffic seems to get.

I hate Phoenix gridlock. This is why I don't commute, and I live in this damned city, rather than in the East Valley like her.

She's over in Scottsdale, and the traffics horrendous there, too.

"Fucking move!" I slam my palms on my wheel as some imbecile cuts me off then slams on their brakes in front of me.

I'm sitting in place, stuck in traffic, so I pick up my phone and shoot her a quick text. **I'm coming to see you now. Can't wait until weekend.**

_Bzzzz . . ._

My phone vibrates in my hand a second later.

I inch along with the traffic, and when it's stopped once more, I check to see if it's her replying.

**Thank God. May explode if you make me wait 2 more days… **she writes back.

I chuckle.

"I'll make you explode, sweetheart. Just you wait," I say under my breath.

The traffic moves a little better once I'm on the 202, heading south.

I loosen my grip on the wheel, and breathe much easier.

There's music on that reminds me of her. So pretty and sweet.

I know this song, so I hum along.

Before I know it, the exit I need is coming up. I get off the freeway and make my way to her neighborhood.

She lives in an older, historic area, and there are a lot of citrus trees that were once groves. They have irrigation water sitting in the bermed up yards, and a sense of peace washes over me. It's such a cozy, homey place.

I feel welcome already, and I haven't even pulled into her driveway yet.

The directions she gave me were clear and easy to follow.

My breath is trapped in my throat as I park. I tuck the tickets into the interior pocket of my suit coat.

"Fucking unbelievable," I say to myself, so turned on by what I see it's ridiculous.

It's small, it's quaint, but it's so her. Warm colors, a nice lawn and flowers scattered around her yard.

I walk with a warm, tinkling feeling in my heart.

_I could live here. I could be very happy in this place . . ._

What the hell? My eyes narrow, and I clear my throat.

I barely know her. Yes, I want her every minute of every goddamn day, but fuck! We're not moving in together.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap._

I knock harder than I mean to.

My shoe scrapes a pebble on the cement below me. It soaks up all of my attention, and I force it to expunge all the crazy thoughts circulating in my head.

Images of me mowing this perfect lawn. Her cooking for me as I tease her, and make her do it naked with a leash around her, attached to me.

_Scrrrriiiick, scriiiiiick._

The rock scrapes harder along the slab under my shoe.

My brain scrapes back.

Bella tied up to my bed in her living room, because fuck if I'm predictable, and I love to move furniture around to switch things up.

Her showering me and me fucking her before I get dressed for work.

_Scriiiiiick, scriiiiiick, scriiiiick._

". . . ou all right, Sir?" I catch the tail end of some woman saying something to me.

I stare harder at my foot, still punishing that pebble for not doing a better job of brainwashing me.

A throat clears.

I look up, and my angel's eyes are boring into mine.

"Are you feeling okay? Should I help you inside?" Bella asks me.

"I'm f-fine," I say, my voice breaking. "Just lost in thought."

I hold out my hand, and she comes to me, stepping over her threshold. "God, I missed you," I say, taking her into a bone-melting hug. I burrow my nose into her hair and inhale deeply.

"This girl missed you so much, she had a hard time sleeping last night."

"Don't do that. Don't tell me that . . ." I sigh. "Then I'll have a reason to stay the night."

"Is that a problem, Sir?" she squeaks when I pull her hair and tip her head back.

"It is if you ever want any personal space again. If I stay, I may never leave. I'm already hooked to your place," I warn her.

"Not a problem for me. I'm not claustrophobic." She smiles.

"Invite me in. Trap me. Tell me I'm welcome to invade your entire life. I'm a man possessed, angel. And I'm sorry, but you're going to be tethered to me for a long time."

She chuckles. "I like the sound of that, Sir."

"You like it now." I release her, and right as she takes my hand to pull me inside, I think better of it. I take a pathetic, stuttering breath and drop my head. "I better not. I came here because I got us tickets to a concert tonight. Have you already eaten dinner?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I have," she says, and blinks.

"Good. I have too. This was a last minute decision. Are you available to go with me tonight?"

"I'm free tonight, and I'd love to, Sir."

"Wonderful." I nod. "Get your purse. I'll wait here, and then we'll leave. The concert's in an hour and a half, and it'll take at least that long to get back to downtown Phoenix. I'm hoping we won't be late."

She beams, her shoulders almost frame her adoring face, and then she disappears inside.

While she's away to collect her purse, my eyes roam around what I can see of her front room from my vantage point at the open front door. She's always so tidy.

It smells wonderful, like her.

I take a step back, worried if I put one toe over that door, I'll never make it out of here.

Bella returns with her purse, a smile that makes my stomach twist and then she locks her place up.

I help her into the car and my eyes travel along with those lean legs of her.

My hands do, too, by sliding up her leg.

"Soft . . ."

"Hard?" She quirks a brow at me.

"Always for you," I reply.

She ducks her head and covers a shy smile by turning away a little.

I lean in and kiss her ear then back off, shutting the door and strutting around the car.

How in the world did I have enough control to keep myself out of her house?

Damn. I glance over at her legs, her feet on tiptoe, and her posture perfect again. She's fucking with me by merely sitting.

"Make the other angels jealous?"

She gives me a questioning look, her lips pursed.

"No one sits as perfectly as you do. My dick can hardly take it. If you do that during the concert, you better figure out a way to come quieter, because I'll be inside you whether you like it or not."

She smiles. "Promise, Sir?"

I reach over, grab her braid and yank it. "Fucking right, I do. Kiss your right to modesty in public goodbye." I reach into her blouse and pinch her nipple. I rest my forehead on hers and breathe her in. "And do you have to smell so damn good? My mouth's flooding."

"Can I go grab you a bib, Sir?"

I pinch her nipple harder. "You can stop making me crazy by quenching my thirst. I wanna taste you so bad," I growl.

"I'm always free for your tasting pleasure, Sir."

She spreads her legs, and my eyes roll back in my head. I drop my head onto her shoulder and take a few deep breaths. "Stop talking now. I can't take it anymore. I'm going to drive, you're going to try not to distract me, and we'll listen to music so I don't fuck you into the undercarriage of this car."

She giggles, looks out the window with a mock, innocent stare.

"Too fucking cute." I pull my hand out of her shirt, reluctantly.

She fights off a smile by smashing her lips together.

I growl like a damn dog. Yeah, I wanna fuck her leg, her hip, her tit, her mouth, anything on her at all.

How did I get like this?

I start the car; back out before I start marking my territory.

That pale neck would look awfully good decorated with my hickeys . . .

.

.

.

The Phoenix Symphony is fantastic.

During a particular stirring moment of the music, she leans over and tells me, "I used to play the cello. I received a scholarship for it, but I turned it down." She offers a weak smile.

I look at her, eyes wide. This lovely talented woman never stops surprising me. I open my mouth to ask her why, but the music grows quiet, and I don't want to disrupt her when she seems so enthralled by it.

Instead of speaking, I grope her thigh, and she smiles, all the while keeping her eyes on the stage.

Several times I brush my fingers up against her pussy, and goose bumps break out on her arms as her breath hitches.

I chuckle.

She's so damn entertaining.

I blow across the side of her neck. Her shoulder raises and wiggles.

I stifle a boisterous laugh but scoot closer.

"Yummy," I say, and lean in, nibbling at that sexy shoulder.

She sighs with a look that says she's thrilled to be here with me.

Then the music swells like a large wave about to consume us, and her eyes light up, grow big and she sits a little taller, rising along with it.

Fuck. Music does amazing things to her.

I'll have to experiment with this.

"I love watching you," I whisper.

She glances over at me and puts her finger to her lips, giving me a mock scowl.

I reach in and pinch her inner thigh.

"I love fucking you, too," I say, a little quieter.

She does it again.

This time, instead of pinching her, I cup her between the legs.

She gasps.

I let go.

Did she think I was lying about exposing her in public? I don't care what these idiots think about us. I'll never see them again.

"Quiet, angel. People are trying to listen. You're ruining it for them." I sneak my fingers up her flowing skirt and rub dangerously close to the edge of her panties. It feels nice and warm down here.

"Mmm . . . I'm thinking this music turns you on almost as much as I do," I say in her ear.

She sits quiet, and motionless.

"I'm gonna have to fuck you as you listen to some of this music tonight. What'll that do to you and this sweet pussy? Hmm . . .?"

She releases a hiccup of a hum, low in her chest, and shakes her head in tiny increments.

"Yeah . . . You know it's gonna make you come harder, make you gush right onto my cock until my legs are bathed in it. I love that about you—how wet you get. I dream about it. I can't stand not having it. I live for your come," I rasp low and deep.

Her cheeks flush and her head lowers like she's having a hard time sitting still.

"Squirm, sweetheart. Show me how uncomfortable that clit's getting, throbbing and begging you for my cock. Tell me how difficult it is," I say. I nip at her jaw.

She crosses one leg over the other, but there's no other indication she's turned on.

Then she lifts a hand and discreetly flips me off.

"Oh, yeah, that's all I need. You're mine." I grab her hand, suck her index finger in my mouth and bite the tip of her finger.

She winces but barely.

"Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you. How hard you want it. How you'll die if you can't feel my dick almost hitting your belly button," I hiss between sucking on her flesh.

She ducks her head, swallows then lifts her head back up, going back to watching the show, or pretending to anyway.

I chuckle and settle her hand on my thigh.

She releases a shaky breath.

I stroke the back of her hand and continue to watch her, rather than the concert.

There are tiny visible signs she's attuned to me, rather than the concert. Tiny, but they're there.

The way her breathing is shallow, how her nostrils flare slightly with each exhale, and how stiffly she holds herself, it's like she's on high alert.

I settle into my seat and give a smug grin.

"Problem with your seat?" I ask.

She glances at me from the side of her eye without moving her head.

"No, Sir. The seats are fabulous. Thank you for getting such great tickets," she replies, voice soft.

"Is there a reason you're sitting like that?" I run a circle with my fingertip on the back of her hand.

"No, reason. Just riveted by the music." She blinks and her eyes shift back to the front.

I continue to touch her, almost tickling her inner wrist, her palm, and even between her fingers, rubbing in such a way, it finally does make her shift a little in her seat, and lean even more toward me.

This is the longest concert in the history of man. Can we leave so I can strip her down now?

Twenty minutes later, the finale is over, and I turn to her and ask, "Did you enjoy that?"

"The show, or you, Sir?" her eyes narrow and her lips pucker.

"Both?" I shrug. "I think I already know, but I wanna hear what you have to say about it."

She inhales and rests a hand on her belly. "The music was divine, the company stimulating, and I'd go with you anywhere. Does that answer your question thoroughly?"

"I think that pretty much sums it up. We're leaving now so we can fuck, and next time we come to one of these, you are not allowed to wear panties."

She blinks, her mouth falls open and she nods.

"C'mon." I take her hand and take on a demanding pace to get to the car.

She keeps up, her steps exuberant and full of anticipation, but for some reason, I wish I had a leash on her.

It makes me feel unsettled. Makes me want to bite into her neck, mark her and shove her up against a wall so I can maul her while others watch.

She squeezes my hand, and I snort. How does she know I need that?

How does she ever know what I need?

I have no clue, but she always does. She says the right things, even if her answers are rarely what I expect.

That's what I can't get enough of—her unpredictability.

It's refreshing to not be able to guess at what she'll say or do next. She always keeps my senses heightened, and my mind stimulated.

I consider pinning her against the car and driving both of us nuts, but what's the point?

I want her naked now. I want my tongue licking at that creamy cunt, and her screams in my ears.

The drive home is so tense, filled with sexual repression, that my teeth grind together. She's silent, and I'm glad. I have nothing to say other than, "Spread and let me fuck you now. Watch my cock own you."

And her answers would be, "This wide?" and "Okay."

All right—so there are some things I can predict, but I like that I feel in control. And I can predict I'll always want more from her.

The journey is much quicker since the traffic has dissipated, and instead of going back to her place, I take her to mine. Closer, and I've formulated a plan.

"I know it's a weeknight, and we don't usually scene when we have work the next day, but I'm bending the rules. I need this—I need you and your cunt wrapped around me. If that's a problem say so right now." I park in my garage and turn to her.

Her face is unreadable and smooth. "Sir, if I told you I had work tomorrow, which you already know, you'd only find some way to assuage my fear, so instead of expressing my concerns, since I'm also sure you've already considered those and have my best interests in mind, I'll just ask, do you have a good place for me to kneel?"

I grin. God, I love being around this woman. "Right here by my side, angel. It's where you belong, and right where I need you."

She smiles with so much innocence and sweetness, I grip her braid, pull her over to me and kiss her hard.

When we're both breathless, and my dick's threatening to burn a hole through my pants, I order her to stay where she is, and I'll come and get her.

I'm out of the car, over to her side quickly, and when I open the door, I notice her shoes are already off.

My stomach drops into my balls and they feel heavy when they tighten.

I assist her as she steps out of the car, and stand rooted in place for a second, my eyes raking up and down her body.

"You truly are a stunning creature."

"Thank you, Sir. I'm glad you think so. I feel the same about you." She ducks her head and looks up at me for a second through her long dark lashes.

"There's no shame in being beautiful."

"I'm not ashamed that you think so—I feel honored, Sir, that you even notice me at all." She blinks and casts her gaze to the ground.

"Look at me, Isabella."

She tips her head up a little.

"When I say you're beautiful, it's not simply my opinion, it's a fact. Inside and out—you're absolutely unearthly. There's nobody like you, and you caught my eye because I know a celestial being when I see one." I kiss the corner of her mouth. "Beautiful. All of you."

"You too, Sir. And I don't lie either. No one's ever said such sweet, tender things to me like you have, and I'll never forget a word of it," she replies.

"Come inside with me. Turn my home into a heaven, since that's what you do." I brush her hair over her shoulder and peek behind her. "Can't see the wings, but I know they're there. Don't fly away until I at least give you a nice, floating orgasm."

She chuckles. "I'll try, Sir. But you're very talented, so I can't guarantee anything."

I smile and take her inside.

Once we're in my playroom, I place a kneeling pad on the ground; point to the spot for her. Without a pause, she shrugs out of her clothes and takes her spot, kneeling next to my bed.

"My angel's already brightened the room."

Her spine goes straighter.

Always so eager to please.

"Tonight, we're going to try something different. Since I had to suffer through not fucking you at that concert, there's to be no talking. Only listening to some ethereal music, letting go and only feeling. That's all you're allowed to do. Float and feel."

"I love this idea, Sir. And that's the last thing I'll say." She presses her lips together and smiles through it.

I drop my pants to the floor, take my shirt off and add it to the pile.

Normally I take my time to put them back on hangers, but she's giving me this, and she does need to get back home sometime tonight so she can get to sleep for work tomorrow, so time is too valuable to waste.

I walk over to my stereo system in the room, rifle through a few of the CDs next to it, and my eyes light up.

Perfect!

"On the bed, angel. Eyes closed. I'll be with you in a moment. Oh, and there's a water bottle on the side table. If you need to drink before we start, then please do so." I go back to the music.

I pluck up the CD for Samuel Barber's Adagio in Strings. It's a nice long one. Over ten minutes worth of music.

After I have it in the stereo, I set it to repeat. It's a soothing piece, and I think it'll really unwind her mind completely.

She drinks her water and when she's done, does as I've instructed.

I wish I had time to bind her in some rope, but I'll save that for the weekend.

There are other ways to restrain her. She was moving around a little too much last time.

I need to focus her a little more intently.

The idea of heavily strapping her down, makes my dick bob.

I take my time getting it right though so she's comfortable and will be kept completely immobilized.

Ropes. Damn. I wish I had time. Such a shame.

She'd be such a pleasure to bind from top to bottom. I almost want her in a damn straight jacket—I have an overwhelming urge to have her almost bound at the stake so I can do whatever I want without her even attempting to get away.

A burn builds in my chest with the undeniable need to have all of her. Every last bit.

I want to encompass her so fully until every brain cell is wiped clean and all she knows is me; _my_ touch.

My lips ache to latch on to that clit, but first I need her to get out of her body's way—to succumb in all ways.

I stretch her arms out and cuff her wrists to the top posts of the four poster bed.

My two fingers dip inside the cuffs and test for comfort level. I ask and she affirms it's good for her.

With a gentle tug at her ankles, I pull her down as far as possible to the end of the bed, making sure she won't be able to move her chest, her hips, or back.

I run my fingers through those ankle cuffs after they're in place as well, and she once again says it works for her.

When I nudge her hips to make sure they're stationary, they don't budge.

Fuck that's beautiful.

She's almost done.

I go about a few last minute adjustments, and I'm ready to go.

The music is now started, I blindfold her and set my condom by her leg then I lick a line up from her pubis to her ribs so she knows we've begun to play.

She sucks in a tight gust of air.

Her toes wiggle.

I smile, knowing there's nowhere for her to go but straight to an orgasm.

"I believe somebody flipped me off tonight." I click my tongue at her. "Time to show you how to put a middle finger to better use." I pause. "Open your mouth, angel, and suck when I tell you to."

Her lips part, and I push my middle finger in.

"Lube it real good, because this is the only lubrication it's gonna get, and you have no idea which orifice I'll choose."

Her cheeks lift to her hairline, and I can tell her eyes have gone wide under the mask.

She generously coats my finger with her spit.

It's dripping when I take it out of her hot little mouth.

I drag my way down her body, tightly bound to the bed.

_Twitch._

I glance down at my dripping cock.

Really, I need to get it wrapped up. I won't be able to wait much longer, and there's no way I'm gonna forget the condom.

Before my finger air-dries, I have it at her back entrance.

"Naughty girls like it this way, and since you told me to fuck off with your finger, I'm thinking this is what you had in mind," I say.

Her lips part and a faint release of air makes me smile.

"Take it like an angel; say your prayers so it won't sting," I say. I slip my finger inside, and she turns her head to the side, away from my voice.

"You know your safeword. Use it if you need it," I remind her.

She shakes her head a little.

"Such a brave little girl." I inhale and stop talking.

I want her to feel, not listen to me.

The music swells, and so do her slick pussy lips.

_That's right . . . You want this._

She tries to jut her hips up, but they stay in place. A hint of a whimper escapes her.

Perfect.

She wants to come already.

I drop my head, suck that clit in so hard and so fast, I watch in fascination as her arms and legs both try to pull and give her some leverage. She's able to levitate for a second off the bed, but can't maintain it, so she drops back down.

I chuckle and nip at her erect clit with my mouth, maintaining the heat and friction while still pumping in and out of her ass with my finger. Her breathing goes ragged.

She tightens her internal muscles a few times, signaling she might come soon.

But then I let my fingers slow or retreat just enough that she stays at that edge. When her threat of orgasm has diminished, I push harder again to get her to the edge.

When she makes a high pitched whining sound, my chest constricts.

I pull my finger out of her ass, let go of her clit and get my condom on.

A deep breath, and I'm on top of her, pressing myself inside.

Yes, this is heaven. Being like this with my own personal angel is the single most incredible thing I've ever experienced.

My mind is the one that's been wiped clean. All I can see, hear and feel is her.

The only thing I can comprehend is how right this is, and how much I need her to feel this, too.

Even though she's in bondage, like a vanilla asshole, I'm humping her missionary style. It makes no sense at all.

I don't give a fuck.

I lean forward and taste her lips, probing with my tongue, begging her to accept me.

Her tongue darts out and she tastes me back.

I know she can taste her pussy on me, and she makes this sudden, "Mmmnnnn," groaning sound that makes me growl. Her head lolls.

My hips push faster, my tongue delves deeper inside her mouth, and she moves like she's absolutely one with me.

She's so fluid and graceful, it takes me a moment to realize I've sent her into subspace.

I've never had a sub actually do that while I was actively fucking them.

But she has.

This is only our second scene together, and she's absolutely floating.

Her entire body seems light as air, drifting almost.

I reach down and rub her clit, and a moment later, she's climaxing.

Her screams are more like a deep guttural note she's holding, and then she explodes, her voice carrying up to the ceiling and reverberating off the walls.

I come so hard, shake so violently, that I almost lose my grip I've got on her.

Her chest heaves, almost caving in as she tries to catch her breath and then she breaks into quiet tears.

I remove the mask, get her out of the restraints as quickly as possible and take her into my chest.

"I've got you . . . Come back down—back to _me_," I coo, over and over, and I do. I'll never let this angel go. _Never_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Tainted**

"Calm your breathing down, angel," I say, keeping her to my chest.

I unbraid her hair and stroke my fingers through it and down her back, under the covers.

"That was intense," she says, out of breath.

"It _was_, and you were amazing. You took all of what I gave you." I kiss the top of her head.

She slumps against me.

"I tried to . . . I complained some . . . Sorry," she says and kisses my chest.

I chuckle. "Nothing to be sorry for. You were perfect. Were you uncomfortable with anything I did?"

"N-no, I was fine." Her breathing is still choppy.

"Deep breaths, hon. I don't need you getting light headed." I reach over to the top drawer of the nightstand and grab a small handful of bite sized chocolate bars. "Open."

Her head tips back, her lips part and I set one inside on her tongue.

I set the other two candy bars on the pillow next to me.

"Was any of it too rough?" I ask after she swallows the chocolate down.

"Not really. You probably could have gone harder." She releases a low, deep breath.

"Better . . . Relax into me. Feel my body heat spreading through you." I kiss her temple and run my fingers in lazy patterns all over her back.

She feels warmer now, but I pull the blanket up higher anyway.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to stay away from you after that," I murmur. "I'm already going out of my mind when I'm not with you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, if some other asshole's looking at my girl and trying to get her attention." I yank on the ends of her hair, causing her to tip her head back.

I kiss her greedily for a moment, but can tell I need to take it easy on her. She's worn out.

"Stay the night," I tell her.

"Clothes are all at my place," she reminds me.

"We'll get up early. I'll get you home in time."

She chuckles. "If I stay here, neither of us will get any sleep, and we'll be both be half-dead tomorrow." I start to protest, and she sighs and cuts me off, "But I'm sure we can work something out. I haven't been sleeping well lately anyway."

I grin. "And why is that?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about you either. I'm extremely jealous, too, and you're so gorgeous, there's no way women aren't checking you out. Women much more attractive and accomplished than me."

I laugh. "You think I care about that? They're not you. They don't interest me at all. And besides, Mike's trying to get you back. None of my subs have ever come back to me, asking to rekindle some kind of relationship."

She sets a palm on my chest and nuzzles her cheek into my chest, settling in even more. "He doesn't really want me. He just can't stand the fact somebody dumped him. Most of the time when we were together, he kept trying to get me to change my hard limits—like sharing. I had no interest in having a threesome, and he kept insisting I needed to try it before I made it off limits. I told him it would about kill me, and he said I was exaggerating." She takes a breath and her stomach spasms against my side. "I mean, I can see why other people like it, and I can fantasize about it in my head, but there's no way I can watch another sub touching my Dom. I already have issues with my self-esteem as it is."

"You have nothing to worry about with any of those things in regards to me. I already told you I don't cheat, and I'm not into sharing either. Polyamory isn't for me. I'm way too possessive, and especially with you," I snort an amused laugh, "yeah, that'd be bad. I'd probably cut the guy's dick off and shove it up his ass." I want to ask her what they _did_ have in common, since mostly it sounds like he was a jackass and wasn't taking very good care of her, but I don't think I can stand to even hear anything good about their past relationship. The idea of his hands on what's mine guts me, and I don't even know this guy.

"That would take a lot of lube," she says teasing.

And my stomach plummets. "What the hell does that mean? Are you saying the guy's hung?" I sit up and go stiff.

She giggles. "Not at all." She kisses my ribs a few times with tiny, sweet pecks. "I meant he's about as anal retentive as a man can get, so that tiny hole's not gonna let much in. Lots of lube required." She pulls her palm out and holds it out in an _I don't know_, gesture then flops it back down onto my chest.

"I really don't like that douche, in case you were wondering," I say.

"No way. I thought you wanted his Facebook address so you could hook up with him and have a Dom's night out," she teases. She scratches at my abs in a comforting way.

"You have his account? I'd like to look him up," I say, my mind going into overdrive on how I can deal with this punk.

"Well, I'm not friends with him, but every now and then he tries to contact me and ask me to take him back. I ignore it." She shrugs and goes back to scratching me. "I can send it to you of course."

"Bella, I want full access to all of your personal social media accounts. I want to see emails, Facebook chats, twitter conversations, and anything else you're involved with."

"Okay."

"Okay?" I wait for some type of stipulation from her, my heart racing.

"Thank you. I hate dealing with him, and it makes me nuts each time he tries to find some new way to come at me."

I smile and bury my nose in her hair. "I have no idea why he would ever think you'd take him back or want to have him anywhere near you after what he did to you. It's pretty obvious he wasn't really compatible with you, but pretended to be to get what he wanted. Not that I can blame him. I considered doing something similar, but I wouldn't've disregarded your hard limits and downplayed them. That's a piss-poor Dom that does something that shitty. If I find his mentor, I'll be giving them a call."

I can feel her cheeks curve into a smile as they move on my chest. She rubs the tip of her nose on my ribs and places another delicate kiss on them. "You would?"

"For you? I think I'd do damn near anything. I don't know what it is about you, sweetheart, but I feel really protective of you. And I can't see that stopping anytime soon."

She hiccups a laugh. "I come across that weak and helpless, huh?"

"That's not what I meant. You're obviously very capable." I squeeze her tight and release her. Just having her near, makes me feel so elated, I can barely breathe as my heart swells so big. Simultaneously, I almost wince in pain when I think about being away from her tomorrow. Why does her absence sound so daunting? "You beat his ass with his own cane. That takes a lot of guts. What I meant was that I can't stand the thought of anybody hurting you in any way at all. It makes me rage inside until I can't think straight. I care about you too much and your tenderhearted soul to consider letting anybody make you unhappy. Does that make sense?"

She pats my sternum. "Perfect sense. I feel the same way about you. It probably sounds dumb, but I want to set up camp in your kitchen, cook for you and feed you. I want you to know I think about little things like getting your dry cleaning for you, helping you relax after work, and just making sure you're happy in general. You deserve it. You work so hard, and I can tell you're always so focused on helping other people, you probably don't take enough time for yourself." She props herself up and looks me in the eye; hers are brimming with tears and so many emotions, it chokes me up as well. "You need somebody to take care of you, too, so you won't burn out. You're like this hero, cleaning up people's messes. That's what your career is, when you think about it. I saw what you did in that brief week at our office. Jerry won't stop raving about how you fixed several unstable clients and even brought in a few borderline clients. How on earth you did all that, I'll never know, but I respect that. And if there's some way I can help you do what you love to do—by helping people—then I want to. I want to streamline the details of your life you probably wish you didn't have to think about. Clothes, eating, cleaning—all the mundane daily crap. If you let me, I would do all those for you as best I can." She blinks and a glistening tear sits in the corner of her right eye.

_I love you . . ._

My throat bobs, and I swear a boulder's lodged inside there. "How would we do this? It sounds like we can't live without each other already. I don't want to live in Scottsdale though. I hate commuting. I love your place already, but it's too far. You work here, downtown as well. Any possibility of convincing you to go house shopping with me, and we can find something that works for both of us?" I wait for the panic to settle in when the realization hits me that this is entirely too soon, that we're moving at a frightening pace, but then she smiles, and nothing like that happens. Instead, this warm, peaceful, vibrating sensation floods my entire being.

I cup her behind the head, pull her in for a deep kiss, and she wraps her arms around me. There's no pinning her arms, keeping them off me.

In fact, I let her straddle me, grind into my semi, and kiss me as much as she wants.

My fingers thread into her hair, tugging close to the scalp when I get the urge to bite into her, but it's playful and not manic.

She smiles each time I do it and goes back in for more.

Her nipples rub into my chest, and make me harder.

I barely got that condom off, but it looks like I might need another one.

"Will we have a playroom like this one?" she asks between kisses, her forehead pressing into mine.

"A bigger and better one. It'll be exactly what we both need. And you'll be playing with me all the time," I say.

"Weeknights are going to be interesting . . ."

"You bet your ass they will," I say, grabbing her butt cheeks.

Her moisture seeps into my pubic hairs, and I look down to see her dripping all over me.

"Fuck, that's hot. I've got you that worked up?"

"Talking about living together? Yeah—I've been thinking the same thing, but never wanted to say . . . Didn't want to scare you off," she says, her arms wrapped around my head.

Her tongue tickles at my lips, and my chest expands in a rush of desire.

I flip her over, and her legs automatically wrap around my hips.

"You're not sore from this last time?" I ask her.

"Unless you're fucking my ass, I think I'm fine, Edward . . ."

"_Sir_," I say, a rumble deep in my chest escaping.

"Sir," she says, blinking, looking a little lost.

"I'll take it easy on you—I want you to touch me, kiss me, and do whatever you like, but no more talking. You're staying with me tonight. I want screaming and begging only."

She nods and a wicked glint fills her eyes as they dilate. Her lips twitch up into a grand smile.

My hand smacks out at the dresser, fumbling to open the drawer so I can get a shitty rubber.

I groan when I can't find one. Already this is pissing me off. We need to figure something else out soon . . .

My fingers find one, I pluck it out of the drawer, shove the edge of the packet into her mouth, and she dutifully bites down, tearing it open with her teeth for me.

"God, that's sexy. Put it on me," I say, letting go of it, dropping it in the hollow of her throat.

She spits out the tip of the wrapper that was in her mouth and her long, graceful fingers pick up the packet, and I watch mesmerized as she pulls the condom out.

I pull off her and sit back, my dick bobbing around as she rolls it on me.

"I wish we didn't have to use these eith—"

I cover her mouth with my palm. "Shhh . . ."

Her eyes go wide and they're filled with laughter when she realizes she was talking.

I slide off her, flip her back over so she's tummy down, and then get her on her hands and knees.

Her hair elastic-band is on the bed within reach, so I gather her hair and put it in a ponytail for her. Then I wrap it around my wrist so I can use it to pull her where I need her.

"This is me going easy on you—so you better consider if you want this nightly, Isabella. Think hard about it while I'm pounding your pussy. I'm not giving you much space. I'll be touching you all the time because," I shove my dick inside her without any warning, "this cunt," I yank her hair and shove my dick in further, "is mine."

Her hands jut out and she braces herself against the headboard so her head doesn't get smacked.

The timing is good, because the second I start ramming into her, her body goes lax, melting into the mattress and me. Her back arches deeply and the lovely sway of her rounded hips tips up.

"Soooo good—sooo fucking deep. Squeeze me tight—milk it. Hold it so tight. Show me you want my cock deep inside you, and you never want it to leave you," I say, pulling her hair, tipping her head back.

I wrap my other hand around her throat, resting it there, keeping her chin angled back. A moment later, I caress her throat with my palm, and she damn near purrs.

My chest drops down, getting closer to her back so I can get right by her ear. "Mine. You hear me? Mike's never touching this again. You're my angel. He can't have you."

I run my hand up and down the column of her throat with more pressure.

She swallows and this sexy moan emanates out of her.

"You will be with me every night—living with me, kneeling before me. I'll take what I want and use this body over and over until all you know is that your Dom owns you—mind, body and soul. I'll take it all. It's all mine."

I nip at her shoulder blades, and run my teeth over the side of her ribs.

She squeaks for a second and pulls away—ticklish.

Fuck.

She can't get away.

I bite down, hard.

"Ooooohhhhhh . . . Nnnngggghhhhh!" she groans and her pussy tightens.

"You better come when I tell you. You better fucking gush on my dick. Make it so wet and slippery, I can't get this condom off. Do you hear me?"

She tries to nod, but I'm gripping her neck a little more forcefully now, so I release her neck and move my hand to her shoulder.

I grip her hair tighter, pull it with every pump of my dick into her.

"My pussy. My tits. My girl. I own her, and she loves it. She loves it so much she can't get enough of this. She has to fight the urge to get herself off, because I'm her Dom, and I have her aroused all the time."

I hear a whisper of what sounds like, "God, yes, I do."

I release her shoulder and smack her ass.

"You better be ready to come when I tell you." I reach around and rub her clit, creating a lot of friction even though it's slick as hell.

Her head drops and stretches to the side so I let my hold on her hair go limp, but keep it in my hand so I can call her back to where I need her to be if I want to. Is she trying to see my dick plunging into her?

Fuck. I love that. My balls tighten and my thighs tingle.

Almost there . . .

"You better scream when you release. I want this orgasm even bigger than the last," I grit.

My head tips back, the tendons in my neck cordon and stretch. I barely fight it off.

She takes a deep breath and her pussy walls pound around me.

And I'm so fucking lost in her, all I can do is yell, "Come right fucking now, angel." I yank her hair with one hand, pinch her clit with the other, and I'm coming.

"Ohhhhh God, I . . . I can feel you spurting . . . Oh fuck!" she cries and then goes shrill when I yank her hair so hard it pulls her shoulders back, and her hands strain to keep contact with the bed. "Ahhhhhhhh Chriiiiiiist!"

I tip back, too, and shove my cock in as far as it'll go, the throbbing head surrounded by lush, exquisite heat.

Her hair falls out of my hands as I suddenly wrap my arms under hers, and splay my hands out on her chest, holding her flush to my chest.

She cranes her head over her shoulder, and my mouth latches onto hers, devouring her.

_My girl._

_._

_._

_._

I wake in the morning to warmth, softness and above all, the most intoxicating smell ever.

Bella smells like a mixture of both of us and tons of sex.

She couldn't escape me.

I was inside her two more times during the night.

Try as I might to let her sleep, I simply couldn't. She's entirely too tempting and edible.

"Morning," she says, her head resting on my chest, her eyes on me like I'm fascinating while asleep.

"Morning, sweetheart." I tip my head up and kiss the edge of her nose.

A lazy grin washes over that innocent face of hers.

"Sore?"

"Should I be? I thought you told me each time you were going easy on me," she says, her grin smug now.

"Oh, so I should let loose on you? Are you saying you want more?"

She blinks a few times, like she's trying to be fully alert. "I can't wait to see you go ballistic, Sir. You're already so beautiful when you're in your element. The raw masculinity and power? My God . . ."

My chest bursts with so many emotions—love, pride, awe over her and how terrific she is.

"If you're trying to make me call in sick so I can show you exactly what I'm capable of, then it's working." I help her off me and sit up, then smack her ass playfully.

"Sir, I need to get home soon if I'm going to make it to work. Would you like me to catch a cab home so you won't be late for your job?"

I growl and glare at her. "Don't you ever fucking say that to me. I won't ever send you in a cab anywhere. I told you to stay last night, and I'll deal with the consequences. You don't need to worry about that."

"Yes, Sir." She smiles.

"Shower with me, we'll get some breakfast on the drive to your place, and I'll work things out from there."

"Sounds like a wonderful way to start my day," she says, beaming at me.

"Too sexy—when you look at me like this. How often is too often to call you at work?"

She cocks her head. "We've got issues."

"I know what my issues are," I say, shoving my morning welcome sign between my hips up at her.

"Sir, this girl knows how to take care of those kinds of issues, especially in the shower." She smirks.

"I'm sure she does, but we're running out of time. I'll be fine. This bastard's just insatiable for you." I chuckle.

She nods and bites her lip.

I lean forward and pull that lip with my own teeth.

It's released with a slight popping sound, and then I point. "Shower. I'll join you in a second."

She does as I ask, I shoot a quick message to the office I'm headed to for this week, to let them know I've had some issues this morning I had to deal with, that I'm running a little late, but I'll be there in time for the nine o'clock meeting.

When I get into the shower, she's all washed, and kneeling in the center of the spray.

"Oh fuck—you're trying to force my will power to the edge, aren't you?" My eyes dive bomb for the back of my head, and I shut my lids. Maybe if I don't see this exotic creature, naked, wet and oh shit . . .

Trembling fingers roam up my thighs, and my breath traps in my throat.

I drop my head and when I open my eyes, her mouth is coming for my hard dick.

She sucks on the side, like she's marking me, taking her time to suckle and taste.

I moan, and my hips flex.

Her mouth slides closer to the base, and she does the same there at the corner.

"Oh, God, Bella, your mouth . . . It's _so_ good . . . So perfect."

Her mouth shifts again, going to the underside, and finding a spot in the middle, where it feels oddly tender.

"Sssffffff," I suck in a breath. "Gentle, angel. You're not the only one that got a little sore."

"I'll kiss it better, Sir," she says, her eyes wide-eyed, innocent and sexy as fuck. "May I?"

I nod.

Her tongue comes out and laps at me, then dips all the way down to my balls.

My hands reach down, grip into her hair, and I lead her where I want her to go.

"Take it in—all the way, and don't suck it. Just run your tongue around the shaft gently. When I want more, I'll thrust, and then you suck hard."

She smiles, nods eagerly and braces her hands on my thighs.

"So sweet, my good little girl," I coo.

Her eyes soften and her mouth drops open.

"I dream about this—about you, all the time. I have visions of fucking you on the desk I happen to be at each day. My fingers ache to be in your pussy. Did you know you'd invaded my mind that fully, little girl? Did you know I can barely breathe each time I call you, until I hear your voice, then my lungs can function again. I need this—need you. Need to be inside your mouth, in your tight little ass, in your wet cunt. You do things to me no one else ever could." I cup my hands around her ears. "I can't let go of you." I grip her head, and start fucking her mouth hard.

She looks up at me, and her eyes beckon me to take more, to go harder, to do my worst. As I thrust, she sucks with the perfect amount of force.

"Shit! I'm lost without you—I have to be everything to you," I grind through my teeth.

She swallows, and my dick slides along the top of her mouth.

"Swallow—angel. Swallow it down when I come . . ." I wrap my hands around the back of her head and push further down the back of her throat.

Another swallow from her, and when she moans, thick spurts shoot out of me.

I can feel my come pooling at the back of her tongue, and I rub the tip over it.

"That's it . . . That's my girl," I say, as I wind down. She keeps it in her mouth. "You love having my come in you—anywhere at all I choose. You love it when my dick bathes in it. It makes you think about what I did to put it there. How I fucked you so hard you could barely breathe or see." I lean down, my dick still trapped inside her mouth, my hands still controlling her head. "You think about that all today at work. You think about where my dick was last night and this morning, and how you want more of that."

I slap her right cheek playfully, and rub the back of her jaw with my thumbs so she'll open wide.

She does, and I pull out.

Her eyes blink and the dew drops from the spray that landed on her, sprinkled across her chest, cheeks and lashes, makes her truly look otherworldly.

"Beautiful," I say.

"Yes, you are." She releases a tight breath.

I help her off her knees, hold her in my arms and rock her back and forth.

"I wish we had more time," I say, smothering her with kisses.

"Me, too. Call me as often as you want, Sir. There's no such thing as too often. I'll be dying to hear from you."

I chuckle low in my belly, and she laughs hard enough it echoes in the bathroom.

Her soft stomach bumps against mine, and it's one of the best feelings in the world—to be this free, to be this filled with joy. It's like a dream.

Only this one won't morph and change. I won't let it.

.

.

.

We grab breakfast, and we eat at her place at a quicker pace than I'd like. But she's all smiles, and I'm immersed in her home.

I feel comfortable, and almost comatosed, it's so relaxing to be in her space.

When she's done getting dressed, I insist on driving her to work, even though she tries to protest.

"I'll call you after my meeting. It starts at nine, but who knows when it'll be done," I tell her as I walk her up to the front of her building.

"I've got a lunch meeting as well, but I think I can get away with shooting you a quick text or two," she says with a crooked smile.

I tighten my grip on her hand when I see a man standing by the front door to the lobby, scowling at her.

My spine stiffens, and my pace slows.

I can feel her eyes on my face.

"Sir, what's wrong?"

"Isabella, who's this asshole staring? Do you know him?" I ask, leading her line of sight with a tip of my chin.

"Oh, shit . . . It's _Mike_ . . ."

"Angel, go inside. Get to work. I'll take care of this," I say.

"But I . . . Sir, you don't know him and—"

I cut her a look. "Now. Do not disobey me, or I'll be forced to punish."

She frowns, squeezes my hand and lets go.

I walk at her side, and when she passes by him, his hand reaches out until I stand between them.

"Bella, I wanna talk to you," he calls out.

She ignores him, keeping her eyes forward and enters the building without a word.

He turns to me. "What's going on?"

I grin.

Time to talk . . .

**A/N:**

**Is there anything as exciting or as hot as the thought of two Doms tearing into each other? Wow.**

**Okay, so today's blog post is about the difference between abuse and a consensual agreement. This is where people get all offended, saying Doms are hurting their sub or that they're being controlling because they do a variety of things that are considered abnormal in mainstream society. The difference here is the word CONSENT! I love the idea of a man I love, trust, respect and adore, picking out my clothes, reading all my correspondences and wanting to know everything about me and what I'm involved in. So is it abuse if I want it? Well, that's what the discussion's about. Come on over to my blog and share your opinion. Link for the address on my profile.**

**Chanse**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Falling**

"I said, what's going on? Why did she look at me like that?" Mike asks, his hands on his hips.

"She looked at you like that because she can't believe how stupid you are." I pause and shove my fists in my pockets so I don't take a swing at this moron. "And the only thing going is _you_—she's unavailable, now and forever. The sooner you accept that fact, the better."

"You're joking, right?" He snorts with a smug grin. "_You_?" He tosses his hand out, motioning at me like I can't possibly take myself serious about this. "You're no Dom."

I shake my head and laugh. "Funny . . . I was thinking the same about you." I take a few steps closer, and almost prowl around him. "Ignoring her hard limits, fucking around behind her back when you knew she'd never be okay with that. You're the one that's pretending like he can take care of her. I give her exactly what she needs—_me_."

"I didn't—I'm not like—it's not your concern what happened between us. She's mine!" he says, his voice escalating.

"Wrong," I reply. "That little girl's all mine. I'll be collaring her before you can figure out what you fucking lost."

"I'm her Dom!" he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm Isabella Swan's Dominant, do you hear me?" He swings.

I duck, and step out of his range, chuckling. "Oh, a _tantrum_? Nice . . . Very on par with what I've heard about you and your maturity level." I pause to exhale, taking my time to tell him exactly who he is and what I think of him. "You think that's gonna get her back? Can you control yourself at all? How old are you? Seventeen? Your dick rules you, rather than your head and common sense. You can't even take care of yourself, let alone a sweet, sensitive caring woman like my Isabella." I cross my arms over my chest and settle in spot. He paces, and I continue, "Do you have any sense at all of how off-putting you are to the people around you? She can't stand you. She's told me how much she despises you."

"You're lying," he says, eyes narrowed at me.

"Am I? Then why'd she walk right past you without even looking your way? I didn't tell her to do that. She did that on her own. She didn't look, because you're not worth it." I shift back on my heels, comfortably. I could do this all day: toy with this dickhead.

"Fuck you! I'm. Her. Dom! I fuck her brains out whenever I please—not you!"

I glance inside the glass entry door, and brown eyes peep at me from behind a security guard, heading our way.

"Feel free to explain that to security when they shove your ass down the street, Junior," I say, smiling, but inside, I'm pissed she's not up at her desk, working. She doesn't need to see this unpleasant shit, and I don't want her anywhere near him.

He looks over and sees her, too.

My gut flares and ignites with fire at the thought he's witnessing her flagrant disobedience of my command. He heard me give her instructions of what she was to do.

I turn on him and glare; I'll deal with her later.

_Clup, clack._

The door shoves open and slams shut.

She remains inside, watching from a safe vantage point.

I point discreetly, so she knows I expect her to shimmy her ass upstairs to her office and stay out of this.

She frowns and disappears.

"Is there a problem here, gentleman?" the guard asks.

"Yes, this man's harassing my girlfriend, Miss Swan. I was just explaining to him she's no longer available, and he needs to leave. He decided to cause a scene and throw a rather amusing fit, rather than be adult about this and leave," I say.

The guard eyes him. "I think you need to leave the premises."

"No," Mike answers.

"It's not a request," I say.

Mike's face turns red and he shakes when he points at me. "This isn't done! She's mine!"

"Give up, man," the security guard says, rolling his eyes. "Even I can see she's not interested in you. She told me inside, some creep was bugging her and was now yelling at her fiancé. She didn't even say she knows you."

Mike huffs, his face goes from red to purple, and then he looks inside the building and his face lights up.

Apparently she's still watching us and must've moved to a different spot where I can't see her hiding from where I'm standing.

I step in front of his view.

"Don't even think about it," I say.

"This prick thinks he's in charge?" Mike says, insulting the guard and referring to me.

The guard laughs. "I don't care who's in charge as long as you leave, so I don't have to call the cops."

Mike growls, lurches forward like he's going to go after her, then suddenly turns and stomps off.

"Thanks. I appreciate you handling that so well, and for keeping her safe," I say, extending my hand to the guard.

He shakes it and lets go. "No problem. I'm Brant. I'm happy to help Miss Swan anytime. She's a very nice lady. One of the few that always says hi and asks how I'm doing, and also one of the few ladies in this place that has the smarts to ask for a guard to escort her to her car if it's after dark."

I glow inside, her transgression against me temporarily forgotten. "She's got such a gentle heart. I'm so grateful she has good security here to keep her safe." I smile. "I'm sure I'll see you again, Brant. I'm Edward Masen, by the way—her significant other." I avoid saying fiancé. The thought of the word and why she chose to say that instead of boyfriend, makes butterflies buzz through my stomach. My heart expands, and the most unsettling part about it, is that I actually like the thought and the way it feels. There's something very right about it.

And after this outburst and craziness with Mike, there's no way I'll let her go to work alone, let alone, ever lose sight of her.

"_The_ Edward Masen? Whoa . . ." He whistles. "I've heard of you. Mr. Baker, the big man of this company, was bragging about what you did here when you filled in for him while he was away. I'm surprised he hasn't begged you to work for him." He smiles, his eyes wide.

"Who said he hasn't?" I chuckle, remembering Jerry Baker offering me a position I turned down right away. May need to rethink this, since I'd be here with my girl, able to keep an eye on her, and see her more often. "Doesn't mean he can afford me."

He laughs. "Damn . . . Must be nice . . ."

I check my phone. "Listen, Brant. It was great meeting you, but I've gotta get going."

"Sure thing, Sir. Have a nice day, and I'll make sure that man doesn't get past the lobby."

"His name's Mike, and I'm thrilled to hear you'll be on top of it." I toss a small wave and leave, my chest tight, hoping he'll do exactly as he's promised.

We might need to take legal action against this prick, Mike . . .

.

.

.

I avoid calling her all day; send her a few texts here and there instead. There's no way I'm gonna call her when I've been fuming all day over Mike's indiscretion, showing up at her work place, and then her disobeying me, getting involved, when I specifically told her to get to work.

I've been running various options for punishment through my head off and on. Even reviewed my list I keep handy for when I need to make sure I'm making a calm, rationale decision, weighing out all the pros and cons.

I have a clear picture of what needs to happen now. It should help us both grow together and individually, though she's already so damn perfect in so many ways—I'm sure the angels truly are already jealous of her.

I pull up in front of Bella's house, and a car I don't recognize is parked in her driveway.

When I get out of the car, I find Mike banging on her front door.

"Let me in! I'm not leaving. I don't care how long you hide behind that asshole! You're mine!" he hollers.

"What the fuck? Is it stalker day, and nobody told me?" I say, approaching him.

He turns around, glares at me.

"My lawyer's on speed dial, keep it up, and I'll make sure you can't ever get more than a hundred miles near her." I smile.

"Fuck you. This has nothing to do with you," he snarls.

"It has everything to do with me," I say, stepping closer. "That's my submissive, my girlfriend, and the woman I've vowed to protect from shit-heads like you."

"She doesn't need protection from me. I've never hurt her," he says, throwing his fists at the door once more.

I grab his arm, yanking it down.

"Leave. Now." I get right in his face, looming over him by a few inches. "And I'll be able to continue to say I've never hurt _you_."

"What the hell is your problem?" He pushes me.

"_You're_ every decent person in America's problem. You think the world revolves around you and your dick. Both are tiny and not even worth giving a glance. Figure out how to be a bigger man inside, by being a decent human being, before you try to pursue a woman. And you most definitely need to figure out that when a woman doesn't want you, that it means go elsewhere." I take a breath and grind my teeth for a second before I decide exactly how to shove my car keys up his ass so far he'll never be able to get an erection for a woman again. "So this is me telling you plainly so you'll get it this time—she doesn't want you. Don't try to contact her again, or we'll definitely be pursuing a restraining order."

"Bella would never," he says.

I step up into his face again. "Yeah? Well, I will. And I'm in charge here. I have no problem ripping into that taint of yours and stuffing you like a piñata with the Bible, so something good will soak its way into you." I grind my foot into his toe. "If I see you again, I won't hold back. If Bella sees or hears from you again, it'll be worse. You've been warned."

He scrapes his foot out from under mine. "Stupid bastard," he gripes as he backs away and finally leaves.

I watch as his car drives off.

My hands shake as I send Bella a text and tell her he's gone and to open the door for me.

The second the door's open, I say, "Keys to your house."

She jumps and gives them to me, her entire body tense and shaking; her skin so pale it's almost translucent.

"I'm going to make a copy. You're staying with me from now on until we find a new place together. Get whatever you need, and once we're back at my place, we're going to talk about punishment." I take her house key off the ring and pocket it.

"Punishment, Sir?" She swallows, sheaths her lips between her teeth, and her eyes look so regretful and disappointed in herself, it almost crushes my heart to bits.

I extend my hand out to her. "You disobeyed me when I dropped you off at work this morning, and here again—I show up, and you didn't text me or call me to tell me this psychopath was banging down your door. Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you want me to help?" My voice is steady, but inside it's like screeching nails across a chalkboard, when I think of how she didn't trust me enough to depend on me to handle this guy.

"Sir . . . I was afraid. I didn't know what to do. What if he hurt you? I couldn't live with myself if that happened," she cries, tears lining her cheeks.

My gut bites into my heart. Fuck! What now?

"God, Bella." I reach for her and she crashes her body into me. Her sobs make me wish now I'd decapitated both his heads while he was in my grasp. "I love that you care so much, but you really don't need to worry about me. Your safety is all that matters."

She nods and cries quietly into my chest.

"That's why you're going to stay with me. I'll be driving you to work each morning, and picking you up. He won't contact you again," I say.

"Okay. Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome, angel."

"Will I still be punished?" she squeaks like a little frightened mouse.

"Yes. It's to help you learn you can always count on me, and so you know I'll always keep my word. If I say you'll be punished, I don't go back on it." I kiss the top of her head. "Now, go pack whatever you need for the next week at least. We can come back on the weekend and get more."

"Yes, Sir. Do you need anything while I pack up?" Her head tips back and she offers a watery, weak smile, her eyes still beleaguered with nothing but sadness and disappointment. "A gun maybe?"

"I won't shoot him. That's too nice. He deserves to be hung upside down by his scrotum until his nuts twist and fall off." I chuckle with a dark, sardonic laugh.

"I was talking about me. To put me out of my misery. I'm making you crazy already and we just started th—"

"Isabella." I cover her mouth with my finger. "Shut. Up. This is your warning. Don't ever say that about the girl I think the world of, because it's not true. You don't drive me nuts in a bad way. You drive me nuts in a good way because I'm crazy about you and all you do. We only need a minor adjustment here. It's not the end of the world, and I don't think badly of you because of what happened. It's my job to teach you, however, so we can remain in sync."

She blinks and her lips jerk into something a little more akin to a smile. "You make me so happy, Sir. I want you to know that."

"Good. Because that's exactly how I feel about you." I reach down and grope her ass and rub noses with her. "Now get your stuff so we can go. I don't want to see him again tonight, and something tells me he'll be back soon."

She leaves, walking like a woman with confidence.

While she's packing her things, I give myself a tour and take inventory of the lovely possessions she has. Her taste in music is superb, and her decorations are modest but stimulating. The way each room makes me feel is almost poetic. There's a sense of nostalgia based on the photos she's hung on the wall of herself, her family and things she's interested in; all of it giving a sense of hope. A sense of wanting to belong, and always reaching.

_You've found that with me, angel. You belong with me . . ._

"All done, Sir." She sets her bag down in the hallway.

"Don't pick it back up. I'll carry it," I tell her, berating myself mentally for not telling her to leave it on the bed once it was packed so I could save her the strain of lugging it around.

"Yes, Sir."

"Isabella?" I stop staring at the picture of her on a beach, fanning herself with a big floppy straw hat.

"Sir?"

"If you want me to be nothing but pleased with you . . . Then you'll give me your laptop right now."

"Okay," she says, frowning.

"Your punishment starts now. No computer at home for the next forty-eight hours. While this ban's in effect, you're going to give me your passwords like I asked for previously so I can go through your personal emails and all your social media accounts." I'm sure Mike'll be contacting her today through one of those methods.

She blinks a few times, her mouth slightly ajar. "I don't know what to say," she whispers, her shoulders dropping and rolling forward. Her arms flop at her sides.

"Say you'll trust me to find nothing amiss at all."

"You won't, Sir. I promise."

"Good girl. The rest of your punishment we'll discuss when we get to my house. But I thought this one couldn't wait. I didn't want to deceive you and keep it from you, because if you put that laptop in your bag, I was going to have to remove it when we got home, and if I see Mike when I exit your front door, there's no telling if I could keep myself from destroying your machine when I touched it again."

Her breath stops mid exhale. "Oh . . ."

"I have a temper I keep in check, but that man . . ." I stretch my neck to the side ". . . has already found a way to make it rise to the surface of my skin."

"I'm sorry he did that, and I know you don't want to hear this, but this is all my fault." She bends over to her get her bag, crouches down, unzips and pulls her laptop out. She stands up, hands it to me with so much serenity and smoothness, that I wonder if this is a punishment at all, or this is actually a relief to her to not to have to worry about dealing with him online.

"It's not your fault, and we're leaving now," I say abruptly. "Zip up your bag so I can carry it for you."

She goes back to her luggage, rezips it and waits off to the side of the hallway so I can get it.

Once I have the bag, we leave her house. I set the bag down, lock up her place and can't wait to get her home where I know I can keep her safe and have her all to myself.

It feels like every man wants her. Eric at work. Mike. Who knows how many others there are?

The drive to my place is silent. I turn the music up to soothe us both, but with each minute, I grow tenser. My knuckles blanch on the wheel and my legs coil, ready to run after that fuckhead and tear him a new place to shit, since he's filled with the stuff.

I pull into my garage after what seemed like a long drive, help her out, and get her inside my home. She stays quiet and looks ready to do anything I ask. I eye her then tell her to strip and kneel by my couch while I get her bag and laptop out of the car.

She does as I ask, and waits patiently for me in her spot. When I get back inside I can't help but smile.

Fuck this woman's stunning. Really can't wait to touch her.

First though . . .

I go into my bathroom, run cold water across the bottom of the shower then turn it off.

"Ready for the rest of your punishment?" I ask.

She keeps her head down. "Yes, Sir. I am."

"Stand."

She rises with dignity, though her face contorts in anguish.

I take her behind the elbow and lead her to my bathroom.

"You sucked me off in here not so long ago," I remind her.

"I remember, Sir. I loved doing that for you."

"I enjoyed it, too. When you let that dick, Mike, toy with you, it feels like you're pleasuring him, not me. And I don't like it. So, you're going to kneel naked in here, on this cold, slippery shower floor for ten minutes and think about how you can change that." I assist her into the shower and point for her to take the position.

"May I ask for more information, Sir?" she asks, her voice soft.

"You may."

"Should I keep my cheeks off my feet, Sir?" she asks timidly, her head so low, I can barely hear her.

"You decide what you think is best in that regard. Whatever aids you in concentrating. I'll be back in ten minutes to help you take a break, and then the second half begins . . ."

"Sir, I want to . . . thank you," she says, getting choked up. "For believing in me, trusting me to handle this. I won't cry. I promise."

I run the back of my fingers across her delicate cheek.

"Down, Isabella. My good girl needs to focus and learn how to relieve the burden and shame of doing something wrong," I say.

She nods, gulps and lowers herself down as if on a pulley.

Her spot is uncomfortable, and she seems to purposefully make it worse by leaning forward a little and putting more stress on her knees. I frown, but decide to allow it. If it makes her feel better afterward, then it's worth it to me.

While she's in the shower, I go and unpack her things for her, clearing out a few dresser drawers and placing her things inside. I wait to put her toiletries in the bathroom until she's done.

Her ten minutes are up, so I go and extend my hands to her. The second she's risen to standing, I can see tears smeared all over her face. She said she wouldn't cry, but obviously that's not what happened.

She turns her head away from me slightly, a look of mortification on her face.

"Almost done," I say, a smile in my voice. "I'm so proud of how you've taken the first part of your punishment so far." I lean over and rub her knees for a moment, massaging around the joints.

"I'm ready for more, Sir," she says, her voice breaking.

Breaking me.

"I know you are, because you're so strong and resilient."

Her lips jerk then press together.

I place her robe over her shoulders she'd packed then lead her out to the living room.

"You're to stand in front of this window for the next half hour, keeping watch for Mike."

She fails to breathe or blink, and is already staring out the window.

I smile. "I know he has no idea where I live, so don't bother telling me that, but I want you to think about how you should always be looking for danger from other men, and that if any male ever bothers you, it's your duty as my submissive to tell me about it."

She clasps her hands behind her back, spreads her legs shoulder width apart, and stands as sentinel, keeping her mouth shut.

"Good girl," I say, and approach her, running my hand over her ass.

Before I start rubbing myself on her, I leave her at her post.

I go unpack her toiletries in the bathroom, and then head to the kitchen, figuring out what to do about dinner.

And that's when I hear it.

_Kathuuuuuump!_

I run out to the living room. "Bella, what is it?"

She's on the floor. "Sir, I saw his car drive by. I think he's looking for us. He's the silver Mercedes out there." She points at the window.

I motion for her to go to my room without another word.

My eyes scan the neighborhood, and there is indeed a car like the one she described, parked a few houses down, only I can't see anybody inside it.

Shit.

I double check to make sure all the doors are locked in my place, and when I get to my room, she's on the floor, trying to kneel, but she's curled over into herself as a tiny ball of nothing but tears and pleading under her breath for him to go away.

I pick her up, toss her on the bed, and pull out my flogger.

"Shh . . . Just feel me. You can stop thinking about him now—just think of me, taking care of you, making you feel good." I run a hand over her thigh to soothe her.

She relaxes a little but she's still tense.

Like a man possessed, I warm her skin, make it sing and tingle for me with soft flicks of the flogger.

She fists the blanket, and pants within no time at all.

"My beautiful girl. So wonderful having you in my home," I say, using a soft tone.

Her body uncurls and she makes the most delicious sighing sounds ever.

"That's it. Good girl. Thinking about me and only me."

_Thhhuuuuud._

It lands across her ribs and she moans.

_Thhhhuuuud, thhhhuuuuud, thhhhhuuuuuud._

The strands cross over her stomach, her breasts, her ass.

Louder groans of pleasure emanate out of her and raspy breaths follow. Her eyes glaze over, and she seems pretty damn close to being in subspace.

It makes me burn inside, ache in places I didn't know existed within me. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm out of my clothes, because I'm out of my mind, and I've got nipple clamps attached by a chain on her while I fuck her so hard, my legs are almost numb.

"Mine! He won't ever have you! You're _mine_!" I growl.

"Oh, please . . . gaaaawd," she whimpers.

I bite at the crook of her neck, suck hard after.

She whimpers with a dying moan and almost convulses on the spot.

"You will come with me because _I_ control your body. He'll know that only I do this to you; only I coax your come out of you at my command," I say. "You're going to scream so loud he can hear you no matter where he is."

She stares at me, her eyes sad but understanding. Does she pity me?

Fuck! I yank nipple clamp chain, and her pussy cinches down.

Her gasps fill the quietness of the room.

"Hold on, angel; almost time to fly apart . . ."

All that can be heard once she's holding her breath, is me straining to hold myself together.

I pull the chain once more, and when her cunt caresses and hugs every aching ridge and line of me, I grunt, "Now! Come, little girl."

She explodes with sounds of ecstasy, and when I yank that chain one last time, she screams, "Edwaaaaard! Chriiiist!"

I come like a devil out to destroy all in his path, yelling, "Ahhhhhh! Angel! Fuuuck! So miiiine!"

She writhes under me, biting her lips, closing her eyes and choking on another scream as she comes undone. Her pussy throbs, holds me tight, and when it releases and I'm done vibrating through my climax, everything's different . . . I can feel my toes again, my semblance of sanity slipping back to me, because she's tucked under me, coated in my sweat and come. She's safe, and I've never been clearer about my purpose than I am now.

I'll protect her from him. I'll keep her happy.

I exhale and crash on top of her, pull my dick out, and that's when I realize . . . _Bare_.

Shit! I drip down her leg, and fuck. I came inside her.

**A/N:**

**How's that for keeping her safe? Safe from Mike, yes, but safe from a possible pregnancy? Umm…**

**Tell me what you think. New blog post with some links up on various websites by people in the lifestyle and ideas on punishments. My blog address is in my profile.**

**Chanse**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Inflamed**

I move off of her, hover, hang my head and sit back on my heels after realizing what I've just done.

How could I have been so careless?

I stare at my come slathered all over her hairs, all over her thighs. Fuck!

My eyes glaze over.

_Please, don't tell me I just . . ._

I wipe my hands down my face, get up and bring back a warm, wet washcloth and a towel. After I've cleaned her off and taken my time to do it so I can get ahold of myself, I turn to her.

"Are you okay, angel?" I set aside the towel and cleaning rag and slide behind her.

She nods and looks at me bright-eyed and almost ecstatic.

I massage her shoulders, kiss them reverently and try to infuse some warmth back in her body. Her skin glows so perfectly it's hard to take my eyes off her when she's bared like this.

I grab some cream from the side drawer, taking care to rub it in gently but efficiently.

"Was I too rough with you?" I ask in a low hum.

Touching her like this has me so relaxed it's like my body's trying to lull me to sleep by vibrating and turning me into nothing but white noise.

Yet, my hands continue to roam over every inch of her, and my lips join in.

"Could you be anymore lovely and radiant, Isabella? I can't stop touching and kissing you," I breathe into her skin and take another deep whiff.

She turns her head toward me, tilts it and rubs her cheek across my hand that I've got placed on her shoulder.

"Perfect . . . That's what you are," I say. "Such a wonderful creature—submitting to all of me, taking your punishments without complaint. I love how much you want to please me." I drag my hands through her hair and ripple it down her back, my eyes following my hands and then flitting over to her skin, covered in gooseflesh on her lower back.

"I trust you, Sir. I can't explain why I do, since we're really just getting to know each other, but there's this deep ache inside me when we're apart. And when you touch me, it's like it dissolves into nothingness." Her eyes soften and fill with such warmth, it seeps into me, heating my heart and pulsing out from there, until my limbs feel spongy and melted.

"You explained it better than I ever could've because that's how I feel, too. Say you're moving in tonight, that's what I need to hear from your very own mouth." I lean in and brush a kiss over her lips.

"I'd like to do that, but I do need to settle a few things before I can do it. For now, how about if we just treat this as—"

"Isabella, if you value my sanity at all, you will not say temporary." My jaw locks in place.

Her lips draw up into a smile. "I'll see what I can do to accommodate you, Sir." She settles into place, her head almost slipping down onto her shoulders and her back rounds as she takes a few cleansing breaths.

"I'll never tire of touching you. So many delicious spots to savor and . . . _torture,_" I say.

She chuckles.

"And you will let me help you with this Mike situation. I want to know the second he even breathes in your direction. Treat him like you did today at the office. Ignore him; not a word. I'll deal with him each time, and you don't need to bother security either. If I want you to do that, I'll text you."

She blinks, nods and then a heavy yawn filters out of her.

"Let's go eat and then it's to bed, sweetheart. You need your rest."

.

.

.

I've called her. She's not answering.

I pace.

I sweat and curse, and want to rip Mike a fucking cunt since I know this probably has to do with him, the fucker.

I manage to wrap things up at work and leave early, heading over to her office.

"Hi, Brant. How's your day been?" I ask him in passing as I drift through the lobby.

"Wonderful, Sir. Are you looking for Miss Swan?" he asks.

I nod and stop, turning toward him.

"She left already. About an hour ago. She looked pretty worried about something," he says.

"Thanks. I appreciate you letting me know this," I say and wind my way back out to the parking lot.

What the hell is going on?

I pause outside my car, dial her up again.

Still no answer.

"Shit!" I kick at the front tire and dial her up once more. This time I leave her a message. "Isabella, you know I'm worried. Be a good girl, like I know you want to be, and call me back immediately. Or text or email if you must, but you better contact me. I'm outside your office, in the parking lot, looking like a schmuck. You better damn well tell me what's going on so I can help you. Brant already told me you left, looking upset. Call me." I end the call and huff.

She has a key to my place. I gave her one this morning, but I drove her to work.

How the hell did she get home? Did she take a cab?

A burst of fire races up my back at the thought of her in some repellent, smelly old cab, all by herself.

Fuck no! That's no place for someone as lovely as her.

I get in the car, race home, and she's not there.

In fact, when my eyes trace around my bedroom, there's no sign of her ever being here last night.

Not that she left a lot of her shit out, but her bag is missing.

I slam open the drawers where I'd stored her clothes, and they're empty.

My feet take off running into the bathroom, and her things are missing there too.

"Where the fuck did you go?" I grit.

I pull my keys out of my pocket, and rush back through the house to go to her place. Maybe she needed some space?

Right when I'm opening the kitchen door to get back into the garage, something white on the counter catches my eye.

My breath gets trapped in my throat, and when I try to swallow, nothing happens. It's a note.

Shit. No!

My knees almost buckle as I pick it up and unfold it.

Her lovely script shares only a few words:

_Sorry. This won't work. I tried…_

Under the spot where the paper resided, is my key.

I pick it up and squeeze it in my palm like I'll somehow manage to make her appear.

Why? What happened that she suddenly bolted?

Did I do something wrong?

_Yeah, you shitty Dom, you went bareback after having several lengthy discussions on birth control and what do about it. How can she trust you now? That and you acted like a Neanderthal, the way you fucked her._

I rest my head in my hand. She said she was good after. She even smiled at me. And she was tucked up against me all night. It felt so right. Even in our sleep, it seemed we needed that connected, oneness.

My eyes sting, and it's hard to breath. I strangle my tie off and slap it down on the counter.

What am I supposed to do now?

I shove the key in my pocket, and head out.

She'll be at her place.

_Yeah, but will she open the door to a bastard like you?_

I cringe.

When did I turn into such an asshole?

Icy dread slips through my veins as images bombard me of her being at Mike's place, listening to him plead his case, and possibly even accepting him back.

"Aaaaaaaagh!" I scream, pounding my palms into the steering wheel over and over as I drive like a maniac to her home.

Brant said she left alone.

But that doesn't mean he wasn't waiting for her out in the parking lot.

Goddammit! I bought a fast car, now why won't the motherfucking engine move this thing?

There's some traffic, but it's not too awful . . .

_Unless your name is Edward Masen, dickhead extraordinaire, and you're trying to get to the most exotic angel ever and beg her to not leave you!_

"Mmmnnnngggguh!" I groan at myself.

I can pull over and check her emails from my phone since I have her passwords, but fuck. I need to see her, to speak to her, to touch her.

This is bullshit, her not calling me back.

I never would've expected it of her.

She's so brave and beautiful . . .

_And scared of you?_

I grind my teeth, and hit the pedal as hard as I can, jettisoning around a diesel.

He honks, and I fight off the immature urge to flip him off.

My gut spasms, and I feel nauseous when I finally corner onto her street.

The tires actually squeal when I skid in front of her house with my sloppy parking job.

I get out of the car and almost sprint to her front door.

Fuck! I didn't get a key from her for her place.

Stupid!

I knock, or pound, and maybe even kick a little at her front door, ready to break it down, as panic seizes my chest.

Why is she doing this?

No answer.

I keep battering the door, but there's no sound coming from inside.

No TV. No music.

The blinds are all closed and the entire place looks the way we left it when I insisted she come stay with me yesterday.

I tip my head back, swallow with a dry scratchy, gritty feeling, clawing at my throat.

My eyes focus on mundane shit like birds, electric lines and even a plane.

What if she left town?

But where would she go?

I don't know enough about her to even have a clue if she has family nearby she might want to stay with.

Shame and guilt wash over me as the stark fact of how much I don't know about her hits me, all because I was too hypnotized by her to think of asking these basic questions.

I dig the tip of my key into my thigh.

_Think. Where would you go if you were in her situation?_

I blink. My head aches and then drops back down.

_Don't say Mike . . . Don't even think it!_

I drag my carcass back to my car; check her emails on my phone real quick before driving off. Don't need her neighbors thinking I'm some kind of stalker.

_Oh, but you are . . ._

I growl and suck in a tight, fired up breath.

How many men would I break to get to her?

I wanted to slit Mike open so she could see he wasn't a man—that he was a monster.

_But what does that make you? If you're the one doing the massacring?_

I drive at a more normal speed, in no hurry to get home.

Ashes and cinders—all shitty—coat my mouth when I think of how I could've handled some things differently.

How I could've made sure she felt more secure with me.

A fist the size of a small country surrounds my heart and milks the life out of it as I go through my evening, eating, working, trying to do anything but rampage around the city looking for her.

Every five seconds, I fight off the urge to check my phone.

She's not there.

No phone call, no emails, no texts.

It doesn't stop me from playing my new favorite game where I check to make sure my phone's on, the ringers turned up as high as it'll go and it'll vibrate as well. If I could make the damn thing shoot fireworks out of it the second she contacts me, I would.

By midnight, I'm finally in bed, though not sleeping, not digesting any of the words I'm reading in my book.

My mind keeps racing, trying to figure out where she might be.

I flip off the light, lie in the dark, overly-hot and overly-pissed at myself.

_Bzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . ._

I fumble as I pick up my phone, dropping it on my bed.

"Fucking hell—pick it up, Edward!" I hiss.

I see her name on the caller ID, and the only thing I can think to say is, "Are you alright? Angel, tell me you're not hurt."

"I'm not . . ."

"Then talk. Tell me what's going on," I say.

"It's complicated," she says, exhaling like she's completely exhausted.

"It's gonna get a lot more complicated if you don't tell me right now." I turn the side lamp on and sit up, resting up against the headboard.

"Edward . . . "

_Sir_. I bite back a growl, bubbling up in my chest. She's calling it off completely—calling me by name.

I shake my head.

"I can't do this," she says, sniffing.

Crying?

"Oh, sweetheart . . . You _can_. You were doing so well. I loved every minute we spent together. Tell me where you are. I'll come get you. You need my arms around you, my lips in your hair and my—"

"I wish I could, but I think you'll be mad when I tell you where I am and what's happened." Her voice shakes.

"Where. Are. You?" I grind out.

"I'm in a hotel."

The tendons in my neck are so tight as my jaw flexes taut, I can feel it pulling at my temple, forming a nice foundation for a migraine.

"Which one?" I ask.

"Let me tell you first what I'm doing." She sighs.

"Okay, angel. Fine. Let's play it your way this time. Tell me what you need me to know about where you are," I say, relaxing my mouth and trying to blank my mind so I can listen without wanting to reach the phone and grab at her.

"I . . . W-well, it's not really a hotel, I guess."

I swallow back a groan of frustration and hold my phone so tight, I'm sure my knuckles are blanched.

"Please, don't be mad at me, but Mike and I used to have this place we used as our playroom," she says in a rush.

"You're in your old fuckpad where you played around with him?" My eyes close and they burn, they fucking feel like she's stabbing me, but what's worse is the way my heart feels like it's bursting wide open.

"It's not what you think," she huffs.

"Then what the fuck is it? Because I'm losing patience here," I say. "Explain it to me, Bella. I need to understand why you're there. Is he there with you?"

"God no!" she yelps. "I haven't seen him since he showed up at the office."

"Did he ask you to go there?"

"No. I haven't spoken to him in weeks. I came here on my own," she answers.

"To hide from me?"

"No . . . I came here to clear this place out. I don't want him using it ever again. I've broken all his shit—thrown it all out. I've been cleaning it up so I can get my deposit back."

"Is this an apartment we're talking about? A _deposit_?" My entire body's shaking, and my feet shift, ready to chase her down.

"Yeah, but I think it used to be a hotel, that's why I don't know how to describe it," she says.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He thinks this is acceptable, to rent some shitty hole-in-the-wall dumpy place to fuck her in? Why did she ever allow this? "Tell me where you are right this instant—an address—or I swear to God . . ."

"I don't want you to come here. I'm ashamed of this place. I never want to see it again," she says, and her voice breaks. I hear something crash.

"Okay, sweetheart, I know you're upset, but whatever you're doing, stop it now. Don't hurt yourself by throwing anything," I say, using a calmer tone.

"I don't care if I get hurt. I can't do this. I can't be a submissive," she says, her voice choked up.

"Why are you saying this? I've never seen a more beautifully stunning sub than you. You take my breath away—frequently."

"I'm not good enough for you. I can't do this right—I want to, but I've already let you down," she says, her voice going quiet and hoarse.

"Location. Now."

She chokes on a soft sigh, and starts rattling off the address. Before she's done reciting it, I'm out the door and shooting through the streets to reach her before she disappears again.

I pull up in front of the dumpiest, most broken down apartment complex I've ever seen.

The slums look like a palace compared to this place.

Do they legally charge rent for this place?

My stomach rolls at the idea of her even being a mile within this filth.

I jog through the crumbling complex and pound on the door, the wood almost giving way, feeling like it's rotted under the paint that's barely holding it together.

"Bella, open up," I say into the sham of a door.

The door unlocks and barely cracks open. Her brown eyes peek at me, and they're red-rimmed and puffy.

I push the door open, careful not to hit her with it.

After I've come in, I shut the door, and crash into her.

My lips devouring her, my hands fisting her hair.

Her head is pulled back, her eyes zeroed in on my face, and she laughs through her cries.

"You're leaving with me, now," I say between gulping, swallowing kisses.

"Okay."

"Never come back here. This is hell being here, and it sickens me you ever met anyone here, let alone Mike. Prostitutes don't even want to be here."

She grimaces and chokes on a winded sob.

"No, no . . . God, I didn't mean to say you're like them. Shit! I just mean," I groan, "this place is horrid. You don't belong here. You belong in heaven. You're an angel. This is purely the thirteenth circle of purgatory. Besides, it smells like that bastard."

"I tried to light some candles and air it out before you arrived, but the neighbors next door were fighting and screaming and—" Her slender arms hug me tight and she stops speaking, stops moving.

I rock her for a moment and caress her back.

"You're never to be anywhere near here again. I forbid it." I grip her shoulders and separate us. She stares at me.

"I won't." She swallows and licks her bottom lip.

"Good. We. Are. Leaving." My stomach's in knots from the stench and peeling paint. It feels like my body's eating itself alive in this place.

She nods.

I take her hand, and don't even bother locking this fucking door.

Let somebody squat here, and when Mike comes back, he can deal with the mess he created.

.

.

.

The minute she's in my home and within grasp, I have her pinned to the bed, and there's rope in my hand.

Without thinking, and barely breathing, I give biting instructions of where I want her, and have no option but to bind her.

Like a man possessed I drag the rope up and down her body, making it kiss and lick at her skin, the way I want to, but am now afraid of losing all control.

My dick already weeps for her, begging to be inside her, spilling myself into her so I can be a part of her as much as possible.

I must keep a distance. Now that I've had her with no barrier at all, it's all my body craves.

"I'm addicted to you, Isabella," I say circling the rope around her slender calf, spreading her open deliciously for me. "I can't get enough. What have you done to me to make me this way? I can't keep my hands from shaking; they want to tear into you, hold you so tight you can never get away."

She watches me with an unreadable expression.

"All I know is I want this ache in my chest gone, and I fear it'll only dissipate if I fuck you until I can't do it anymore. That my come needs to be in you, on you, and marking you everywhere. Why can't I stop? Tell me to stop. Safeword. Tell me I'm crazy and out of control, and frightening you," I say through my teeth.

Her eyes light up. "I'm not afraid of you at all, Sir. I want this too. I want this control."

I stop moving, blink hard and exhale so loud, it sounds like the harsh scraping of metal on metal. "How can you want this—want _me_?"

"I know this sounds insane, but I need control, too. And until you asked me to give you everything, every fucking piece of me, I didn't have it. I've never felt so free as I did when I gave you my full, willing submission. I never gave it all to Mike. I don't think he really wanted all of it—all of me. He wasn't in my head like you are," she breathes. "I need this more than you do."

"Then why did you run from me? I can't take it if you panic and do that again. It about undid me—almost destroyed me." I climb on top of her, secure her leg to the top right post, so it's levitating in the air, pulled out of the way.

Fuck, that pussy's so lush, pink, wet and inviting. I pant just by _looking_ at it.

I take a deep inhalation, smelling her arousal, thick and heady.

My head drips and is so heavy, it almost pulls me to where it wants to go.

"I had to. I wasn't afraid of you—I was afraid of _me_, Sir. I want this too much. I can barely function without you, and if you cheat like he did or try to leave me I'll be noth—"

"Shut your mouth right now," I growl, my eyes burning into her. "That'll never happen. I'd die before I ever did either of those things to you. Do you know how much I need this with you?" I grip into the juncture of her thigh, my fingers aching to burrow into her skin and embed themselves there permanently.

She grows quiet like I'd told her to.

I rip her panties off, because I didn't have the presence of mind to remove them before I started binding her. After a beat, I ball up the slip of fabric in my palm, and tell her, "Open. No more self-doubting. Taste what has me going crazy." I shove them gently into her mouth.

She blinks and stares at me with so much desire pooling in her eyes, I _have to_ be inside her.

_Just a little. I can pull out. She won't get pregnant._

Her legs are positioned perfectly; her hands are free this time.

"Clap if you need to safeword, otherwise, keep your hands on my back or on my ass. If you just need me to slow down when I'm inside you, tap my back three times. Nod if you understand what you're supposed to do," I say.

Her head bobs and then an exhaust of steamy air pushes out of her nostrils. I can tell by the way her hands greedily wrap around me the second I'm within reach, she really _does_ wants this as much as I do .

"Ohhhhh Christ you feel good," I say, sliding into her, dropping my forehead to hers as I push inside her.

The velvet grip of her, how she pulls me inside and the way the core of her pussy laps at my head, makes my eyes water, it's so overpowering.

She exhales with a groan.

"Mine. No running ever again. You're with me, and you're never going back to that fucking place where you used to be with him . . ." My neck strains as I tip it back and try to wash all memories of him away and where she was. With eyes closed, I fuck her so hard, the bed rocks like mad, and she whimpers, moans and squeezes her cunt so tight, my breath is wringed out of me.

I need more. She has to know I own her, that I'll never let her down.

I pull out, and my body screams in protest.

She cries out with a muffled "please" at the loss of pressure.

When she tries to reach for me, I cut her a look. Her hands set down at her sides and she watches me with trepidation in her eyes.

I grab my riding crop, and prowl after her, sneering almost as I think about all the ways I want to fuck her. How I'm sick enough to actually hope I already got her pregnant, so she'll have to be mine.

I'm nauseated with how needy and raw I am for her, that I can even think in this irrational way. Of course she doesn't want to carry my child. Why would she?

I'm making no sense and can feel how crazed the look is I'm giving her while I lick my hungry lips and start lightly slapping the crop all over her breasts.

"Don't you raise your hands. Keep them down," I tell her.

She tips her head back as far it'll go and shuts her eyes. I wait for her to tense up as I put more pressure behind the crop.

Instead, her body unfolds completely and she sighs with an tortured erotic sound.

I trace it down the center of her body, salivating over the gorgeous pink color her skin creates from each sensual kiss I give her skin with leather and heat.

I palm myself to keep from breaking down and screaming at the world she's mine and they can't fucking have her.

_Slaaaaack, slaaaaack, slaaaaack._

I stare and grow hungrier as I land blow after blow on her pussy.

Her hips bounce as she pushes her cunt up, swallowing up the sensations greedily.

I need more. I need to consume her in every way possible.

I throw my crop down, pissed I can't have it all this very second, that I'm not what she needs, that she had to run.

I don't give a fuck that she said the opposite. Her reaction was wrong. She ran.

Actions scream louder than words.

I glance up at her, and her arms are stretched up above her head, those tiny hands grasping the headboard.

"Green? Nod if you can take more," I say, my chest so tight it feels like I might crash any moment. I have to be quick before I come undone.

My shaft pulses angrily, bobbing each time I think about how I might never have this again.

She nods vigorously and her breaths are flying, pounding out of her. The way her chest heaves, dragging in lungfuls of precious air, spurs me on.

I grab my flogger with dizzying speed, and tattoo myself onto her skin by pinking her underarms—my aim perfect, keeping away from her face.

She gasps, watches me with the most heated gaze I've ever seen.

"You want this. You want _me_. All you need is me marking your sexy skin, fucking you like a primal animal."

She nods without any command from me.

"Fucking right you do. Never run from me. Never deny me this." I stop the flogger for a moment, wrap my hand around her throat, my thumb and index finger curling around her jaw, shoving her face up so she's staring directly in my eyes. "This shit is mine. Every bead of sweat, every drop of come of yours—I own it." I rip the panties out of her mouth with my other hand. "Who do you belong to?"

"Edward . . ." she says breathless like her heart is sprinting faster than mine. "I belong to you, Sir."

I snort with a dark laugh. "You put on a good show, acting like you believe it. Show me. Scream. Beg. Show me how much you need my come." I shove the panties back in her mouth. "I don't fucking care if your mouth is full. You find a way to scream louder than any woman ever has, and I'll believe you."

I pick the flogger back up, move to her thighs, ripening them, turning them pink.

My hands drag over that color, singing from her pale flesh.

I lean over and drag my teeth and tongue along the area.

She bows off the bed, and thrashes for a moment.

I turn the flogger around, grip at the base of the strands and rim her soaked pussy slit with the handle.

"You want this? You wanna get off? My slutty girl can't possible want this. She's too good for being treated this way. She only wants cock inside her cunt—nothing more. She thinks this world of mine is disgusting . . ." I bite my tongue that's poking out, feeling so on the edge, I have to slide the flogger handle inside her. I need to be close to that pussy even if I can't have it.

I sniff and lick; nip at her clit.

"Hmmmhh, hmmmhhh, hmmhhhuhh," her stuttered whimpers make my balls tighten as my cock lengthens and stretches.

Her eyes blink and there're tears welling.

"Are we green?" I ask.

She nods, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her now; bunching and releasing over and over.

"How green? Green enough you're begging me already to come?"

"Mmmnnnnhhh," she moans and nods really big, her eyes following my mouth.

"Why should I let this slut come? She ran away from me, almost destroyed me. She must not care about her Dom and how he feels." I crawl on top, sitting on her stomach. "I've never been so sick with worry, so ready to destroy myself for a woman." I cup her jaw; trap her head in my hands. "I love this. All of it. If it scares you, you safeword right this instant by clapping." I drop my body, crushing her. "What will it be, Isabella? You wanna end it now?"

Her eyes grow big.

"_Tell_ me—tell me it's too much, that you don't love it, too."

She grunts and strains to lift her hips, but she can't.

"I give you permission to leave now. You clap, I'll release your legs and you can go. I won't chase after you again. I'll let you go back to that snack, Mike. I'll let you play it safe with him."

She shakes her head and tears escape her, eyes scrunching in anguish.

I relinquish my loose grip on her head.

"You don't love him. You love _me_. You can't live without me. You can't even think about living anywhere else but here with me. We don't need anything but each other." I reach down, grip my cock, rub the head all over her dripping opening. "I can feel how much you love me—it's pouring out of you, angel."

Her eyes twitch with emotions that seem to twist and churn. Those sultry looks shred me apart.

I shove myself inside.

Rocking.

Pressing.

Hurting for more.

Need screams.

My hands roam up her body, pinching and scraping as I go.

I get to her tits and grip her nipples, twisting slowly until I do it hard enough I can see the volume of desire go up a hundred-fold as her body convulses and she gives her first yelp to me.

"More," I say, pinching harder and harder.

"Iiiiiimmmaaaaahhh!" she screams behind her screen of silken fabric.

"I can't hear you." I do it again.

Her legs jerk and her throat constricts then screeches fly out of her.

I let go of her right breast, suck her nipple into my hot, flooding mouth.

Each powerful suck sends her into a fit of howling and moaning.

"Clap if you don't love me. Safeword!" I grit.

Her eyes soften and she looks drugged, so dazed I grunt and can feel my orgasm crashing through me.

"Come now, little girl. You _do it_ right now!" I say, slapping her wet tit I was just sucking on. "Scream my name!"

I pull the panties out of her mouth, bite her collar bone, and when she looks on the cusp of going into subspace, I hiss in her ear, "Come on my dick now, angel, or I'll decide you don't get to come at all."

I roll her right nipple, and she screams, her pussy tightening around me. As she starts to convulse, I pull out and pump myself with my fist, spurting all over her breasts, her neck and face.

When her orgasm slows, I tell her, "Open, sweet girl."

She opens her mouth, and I push my wet head inside her mouth, forcing her to clean it off.

"Lick it clean. Taste what you do to me," I say, my voice low and raspy, recovering from my own climax.

Her jaw is lax, her tongue loose and pliable as it wraps around my softening head.

When she's done, her eyes drifting off, heavy lidded, I growl, taking my dick out of her mouth.

She's covered with my come.

Like a sick asshole, I rub it into her skin, massaging her and warring with myself over what I just did.

I was rough.

I was taunting her.

Never once did I tell her how much I . . .

"I love you, Isabella. You must know I . . ." I pause, my eyes flooding. "Shit. I want you so bad, it hurts me repeatedly." I grab the scissors in my drawer, cut the ropes off her and slip my way back onto the bed.

I roll her into my arms, and she's floppy like a ragdoll.

Chocolate's placed between her lips, but she's so out of it, I cry harder than I ever have.

Can she see what I do? That we absolutely belong together.

This is twice now I've sent her into subspace.

She melts at my touch. She clearly loves having me in her head and in her body.

"You're so beautiful when you give yourself to me like this." I stroke her hair. "But now you need to come back to me. I need you here. Sweet girl, come back." I kiss her face all over, tiny, sugary nips and devotions to her.

"Siiiiirrrrr?" she slurs.

"I'm here. Are you with me?"

She blinks and sighs, her body going even limper.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask, my voice breaking and hiccuping like crazy.

"You can't ever hurt me," she breathes, and tears roll down her cheeks, but there's a sound of utter contentment in every exhale. "Only I do that by being afraid and running." She smiles in a lazy way.

"I love you. Do you hear me? I love you more than anything." I run a fingertip over the tracks her tears made. "I never want to hurt you."

She tries to wrap her arms around me, but her limbs are obviously still drugged and heavy from her trip in subspace.

"I want you, Edward, so much. I love you, too, if that's even the r-right word." Her body starts to shake and her face contorts, then she sobs, tears gushing out of her.

"Oh, sweetheart." I pull her into my chest so she's draped over me, and I kiss any portion of her I can, touch with tender caresses, and tell her in as many ways as I can how much she means to me.

When the tears slow, and her breathing evens, I carry her to the bath and with slow, unhurried fingers, I wash her and devote myself entirely to her every breath and need.

She rests her head on my chest, and I hum.

"I quit my job today," she says.

"_What_?" I whisper calmly, but my chest is exploding.

"I had to. After M-Mike was yelling about being my Dom, people heard. Nobody would talk to me. People were scattering when I entered a room, giving me nasty, repulsed looks. A few men tried to come onto me. One of them even had some nipple clamps in his pocket he showed me. I've n-never felt so dddirty in my life," she says, her voice shaky and her tongue being uncooperative.

"Oh, God. I can't stand hearing you in pain like this," I say, drawing circles on her shoulders.

"I felt awful already." She turns her body and curls up into a tiny ball.

I hug her.

"Tell me why you felt awful," I say.

"I don't know . . . I felt unworthy of your affections. You say the sweetest things, and my Mom called me. I accidentally told her about you, about us." I stiffen, she continues, "Don't worry. I didn't tell her about what we do, but I think she suspects. I could hear the harsh judgment in her v-voice. I couldn't stand to feel like everyone thinks I'm a nasty wh-whooore. I don't want to be that. I want to be a good girl. She told me to go to con-f-f-fession." Her shoulders tremble, and she cries, covering her face with her hands.

"Why didn't you tell me? Come to me? You were suffering sub-drop. I could've helped," I say with a soothing low tone. "Did you think I wouldn't help you?"

She tucks her head tighter into her chest. "I don't know. I didn't know what to do. I felt so tiny and disgusting, and all I w-w-wanted was to get away from it all. I wasn't running fr-from you." She hiccups. "I was rrrrruuuning from me. I hate myself sometimes, and it's never been this bad before."

"No, noooooo, noooo," I coo. "You should never hate anything this beautiful—_you_ are _beautiful_. Everything about you is amazing and stunning and so good." I tuck a hand under her chin, tip her head up and brush my lips across hers. "Perfect—my angel . . ."

When she's told me more about how low and despised she felt, and I can tell she's growing sleepy, I help her out of the tub, wrap a fluffy towel around her and feed her something with plenty of protein in it.

She droops at the table.

At some point I can't coax anymore food into her, so I bring her back to bed, massage her with oils until she's asleep and safe in my arms.

"Love you," I murmur, shut my eyes and drift off, but still holding on for fear I won't be able to breathe ever again if I awake without her.

**A/N:**

**Some links on today's blog post about subspace and subdrop. Fascinating topics I could read about for hours…**

**Thank you all of you lovely people for reading, rec'ing and telling me what you think about this story. Sorry I missed posting yesterday. Kids are out of school now so it's harder to have time to sit at the computer without interruptions.**

**Chanse**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Nestled**

We made it through the rest of the week without any incident, and having mind-blowing sex every chance we got.

And though we haven't heard from or seen Mike at all, he's still there in the back of my mind, taunting me.

Making me crazy.

Bella sits with me at the dinner table, barely poking her food. There're bags under her eyes, and a wave of guilt sweeps through me.

Shit—I keep waking her up, my erection insisting she feed this uncontrollable selfish need for more.

"We're gonna go out tonight," I say, intending to use this as a means of distraction so I won't jump her again.

The woman needs a break, and I realize this. Plus, it's a Friday night.

I received an invite today from a friend to meet him and a few others at a club I've never been to.

"Sounds good, Sir," she says, barely looking at me for the brief second it takes to agree with me.

"I've got a few people I want you to meet," I reply.

"Okay."

I want to grit my teeth and remind her to address me properly, but she looks ready to fall asleep.

"You all right? Are you coming down with something?" I ask.

"No. I'm fine. Just a little tired, Sir. I'll be good to go whenever you're ready to leave." She smiles, but it's a half-hearted attempt.

"Angel, I want you to go take a nap. I'll wake you up in a few hours when it's time to meet them," I say.

She gets up, her entire body hunched over and her eyes lifeless.

"I'll bring you to bed," I say.

I stand, pick her up and bring her back to our bedroom.

She yawns, and as soon as her body touches the mattress, she curls over onto her side and goes to sleep immediately.

I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her sleeping for a few minutes.

She really is an angel. So beautiful and impossible to resist.

My hand shakes as I try to fight the urge to touch her.

I get up and cover her with a blanket before my body takes over and has her naked and cuffed to our bed.

Enough for one day.

I shut the door with a quiet click, leave her sleeping in peace and go gather the things I want for tonight.

My chest warms as I pack her gift away, hoping she'll like it and this isn't a big mistake to present something like this so soon.

Butterflies swarm my stomach, and I close my eyes then take a few breaths to steady my pounding heart.

Will she ever understand what she means to me?

I go set the bag out in the car and go back to my office to work on a few things I didn't get done today because I went and visited her. It was her turn to have me go down on her at her desk.

She was way louder than I'd anticipated.

I chuckle.

The panties aren't working anymore as a gag.

Need something more effective—need to look at ball gags.

My chest aches for her already as my mind goes through so many deviant options and ways of keeping her quiet.

For the next two hours, I try to work but keep finding myself, cracking open our bedroom door to peek at her.

Her quiet breaths fill the room, so I leave her alone once more.

I wish to God neither one of us needed sleep.

Fortunately for me, I can get away with about four to five hours of sleep per night on a regular basis, but if she gets less than six, she's dragging, and today's proof of that.

The time goes so slowly when she's not with me.

I fiddle with objects on my desk, have trouble focusing the way I used to before she came into my life, but I can't seem to care all that much.

I check the time, and it's almost time to go if we're going to meet them.

She's been asleep for two and a half hours, more than enough time to feel well rested, right?

I put away the projects I was working on, head back to our room, and when I get there, she's in the bathroom, getting ready.

"I was gonna wake you," I say, my face dropping.

"Oh, sorry, Sir. I woke up and realized I'd been asleep so long, I worried you might be waiting for me, trying not to disturb me." She smiles.

I feel better already seeing her this alert, but then she tries to stifle a yawn.

"If you need more sleep, sweetheart . . ."

"No, I'm fine, Sir. I'd love to meet anyone you want me to. Are these close friends of yours?" She blinks and it's almost kind of flirty, like she's fanning her lashes at me.

I reach out and pinch her ass. "Careful. You start looking at me like that, and you know I'll have trouble traveling more than five feet from this bed."

"Unless it's to the playroom," she murmurs under her breath.

I smack her bottom. "Sounds like you miss it, too."

"We were in it last night, Sir. Did you forget what you did to me?" She points at a spot where a bruise appeared today.

I lean over, inspect it closer, and kiss the spot. "Sorry. I got a little carried away."

"You seem to like giving me hickies in very odd places." She grins harder. "Not that I'm complaining, Sir."

"Just admiring my raw talent?" I tease.

She nods, chuckles, then turns around and finishes fixing her hair.

"You look entirely too scrumptious," I say, settling myself in behind her, my hips glued to hers. I rock them back and forth.

"And you look like a fucker that needs to get laid," she says, then laughs.

"Did you just curse, Miss Swan?" I cluck my tongue. She nods and rubs her lips together. I continue, "Why, how unladylike and disrespectful of you."

Her lips smash together once more. Is she wearing lip gloss?

Perfect.

"Kneel, angel. I'll clean that mouth out for you with something far more potent than soap and water." I point at the ground before me.

Her eyes light up, and her shoulders bounce for a second before she becomes my subject, worshiping at my cock.

"Unzip with your teeth, and if you get any lipstick on my pants, you'll get three swats with the tawse." I smirk.

The damn woman almost has me undone when she shrugs like she's indifferent then smirks back.

"Slide it down, now. We're on a time table here," I say.

She smiles and her nostrils flare, her breathing already harsh.

"Hands behind the back, and no tongue to get the zipper in your teeth." I pat her head. "Make me proud."

A low, happy humming sound, vibrates out of the back of her throat.

And my whole body lights up. Woman loves this shit.

Not to mention, she comes up with ingenious ways to get around the rules I set for her.

"Sir, I—"

"No talking. You have adequate instructions. Get to it, angel. Chop, chop." I chuckle, jut my hips forward to make it a little easier, but not much.

As she comes at me, she tucks her lips under her teeth, and just as I think that tongue will poke out, she tucks her head down, and uses the tip of her nose to nudge the zipper grip up.

She giggles once it's perpendicular to my semi-erect cock.

Those talented teeth come out, and before she can bite down, I thrust my hips forward, hoping to get some of her lipstick on my fly, but she manages to turn her head right in time to avoid it.

I lean over and grip her chin. "Once more—and get it done this time. You wanna give me head. I know, because I want it, and you always want whatever I do."

Her head wobbles on her shoulders like she's once more egging me on, challenging me to push her a little further.

I leave the zipper latch standing on end for her, but right as she goes in with her teeth, I pull my hips away from her, and she almost falls forward, the weight of her head, tipping her. Before she can topple over, I save her with my cock, cushioning the blow.

And wouldn't it be amazing if she managed to keep her lip gloss off me?

I glance down, and it's smeared all over me.

"Oh, what a tragedy. I really like these pants. You'll be washing them out by hand tonight after I'm done fucking you." I pulse my hips forward twice in rapid succession. "Get to sucking, my little slut. And if I don't see some lip gloss on my balls with a hand mirror when you're done, then I'm adding an extra swat."

She sighs, and shuts her eyes then gently shakes her head with a humoring smile plastered in place.

"That zipper's still in place. Is there a problem?" I lilt.

She moves so quick, I don't have time to thwart her, and she's got the zipper down.

"Look at that . . . I'm missing my underwear. I think it's because my little subbie forgot to give me some this morning when she dressed me." I cock an eyebrow at her.

With incredible suction and pursed lips, she manages to get the tip of me into her mouth without using hands to pull my cock out or teeth to move it in place.

"Oh, such a smart little one. So good to me," I say, my fingers tracing around her hairline, brushing over her smooth brow, and tickling at her temples. "And she sucks like such a good whore when I tell her to."

Her breath hitches for a second, and her head automatically tips back.

She knows me so well. When I give her that look, she knows I'm about to get rough, and fuck her face as hard and as fast as I please.

"You'll need to fix your hair again, and I'm sorry for that, but fuck if I'm gonna go slow when we need to be somewhere," I say, curling my fingers around her ears, and pulling her head into me, getting my shaft as deep as it'll go.

I swear she's magic, because she fucking juts out her bottom lip, and I can actually feel the greasiness of her lip gloss, smearing onto the front of my balls.

"Fuck . . . That's real good," I say through my teeth. My legs prick and ache, ready to force my come into her waiting, anxious mouth already. "Deep and fucking right. My good little slut . . ."

She sucks harder, my groans and straining legs, cuing her into where I'm at in terms of climax.

I take a deep breath, pound her mouth further onto my cock, impaling her throat over and over.

She gags a few times, but keeps going, her eyes looking determined and filled with hope.

"Don't swallow it all—leave a little in your mouth. I want you to relax your mouth as soon as I flood that filthy tongue. Let some of it dribble down your chin so it drops into your cleavage. I want you to smell of me, to remember all night long who marked you this way—who rammed his dick down your open throat . . . because you called me a fucker."

She blinks and her eyes water, but then they shift up to me, and again, there's this look of utter devotion, and I lose it.

"Awwww fuuuuuuck—so hot! Suuuffffffffuuuuucking good," I moan.

The moment my slick head is done spraying and coating her mouth, I pull out, drop down to my knees, and tug roughly on her chin.

"Let it out, my little whore. Show me how much you love me," I say.

And her tongue almost flops in her mouth as my milky cream rolls down her chin and the fucking sexiest sight in the world is before me as it slowly drips down into the crevice of her breasts.

I crouch down as low as I can, open my mouth wide and catch a few drips then lick a line from her cleavage up to the hollow at her throat.

When I retreat, there's still a considerable amount of my come inside her mouth.

I grab her head and tip it down so a large portion of it will fall from her lips and drip down into the spot I can't take my eyes off of.

"So sexy—I can barely stand it," I growl.

She gasps for a second when a large glob of it plops down into the little section of her bra that's almost a cup.

I snicker. "Fuck, it's like it was made for this."

She smiles and then glances up at me, smirking.

"Good girl, but you're not done." I pat her cheek. "Put your head up now."

She straightens her shoulders and her head goes back to being level.

I use my palm to close her mouth by pushing up under her chin. "Swallow the rest now."

She gulps and her eyes go heavy with lust.

"Time for your spanking. Get the tawse and meet me in the playroom. Splay your ass out over the spanking bench. Keep your shirt and bra on. I want my come to stay where I put it."

She nods and bows her head.

I get up, help her stand and then I go remove my pants, setting them in the laundry room so she can scrub them when we get back.

My spine straightens when I step into our playroom, and not only is she draped over the spanking bench with her skirt off, but she's got the cream out and ready to go, the tawse, and she even managed to somehow cuff her ankles to the furniture.

"Well, that's a beautiful sight," I breathe.

She keeps her head down, not bothering to look at me.

I glide across the room, and those gorgeous pale cheeks call out to me.

My hands squeeze, roam up and down her crack then spread the cheeks apart.

I bend over, suck in turn at each glowing mound and then slide my tongue down to her puckered hole.

Each swipe of my tongue makes her back arch a little. I prod with the tip at her entrance I haven't invaded yet.

If there was more time, I'd enter it as soon as I'm done spanking her, but we really are pushing it as it is, taking a few moments to do this.

We're still expected to be somewhere.

I suck along the inner edge of her fleshy cheek and knead with my hands once more on each side.

A rough, wet moan slips out of her, so I stand up and give a few warm up spankings. When she seems content and ready, I grab the tawse, and _whhhhicaaack_!

She tenses then releases a loud sigh.

I bend over her, bite her left shoulder blade while massaging her unblemished ass cheek.

Her shoulders relax when my teeth let go.

I straighten once more.

_Whhhicaaaackah!_

"Fooooohhhh," she exhales in a drawn out, dragging breath.

"How many more did I say? Four total?"

She hunches her shoulders.

I run the butt of the tawse up her spine, starting at the top of her crack.

The pink color from the contact on her skin is intoxicating.

My eyelids go heavy, and this low, tingling weight settles in my belly.

I pull the leather back down and then twirl the ends of it over both spots I marked her.

"So precious and beautiful," I purr.

_Whhhhhiiiiicaaack!_

She whimpers and her legs buck.

"Oh, God, it's almost over. Isn't that a shame?" I smooth a hand over the new pink wonder I landed on her skin.

I bend my knees deep, lick that spot and blow, cooling it down.

Her butt cheeks break out in goose bumps, and she gasps. A moment later the furniture is making a creaking noise as she tries to shift away from me.

I grip her thigh for a moment, putting her in the exact spot I want her.

"One more, then we leave after I take care of these pinked areas."

She bobs her head a little.

I pick a new spot and smile then bite the inside of my bottom lip.

So many curves and so many places to warm with my leather toys.

I snap it in the air, making her startle. She chokes on a giggle.

I chuckle.

_Whiiiicaaaaackuuuup!_

Her ass clenches and her entire body convulses for a second.

I drop the tawse, pick up the cream and unscrew the lid.

With warm hands, and a racing heart, I tend to the tender portions of her skin, and when I pick her up, turn her around to take her into my arms, she looks doped up.

"Good Lord, my little girl, how close were you to coming from that?"

I run a finger across her bottom lip.

"Pretty darn close, Sir."

"Nice. You kept your language clean. I like that." I kiss her. "You ready to go after I get your skirt back on? Shoes?"

She nods and a lackadaisical grin paints her face.

I chuckle, and it sounds low and dark. "I bet that pussy's almost as wet as between those breasts."

Her eyes sparkle.

I help her dress, give a few more kisses, and settle her on the couch in the living room while I get some new pants for myself and my own set of shoes.

I whistle the few minutes away, feeling so light and almost separated from my body, I wonder if I should be driving in the next few moments.

But then . . . after that spanking, her face appeared the way I feel—all doped up and happy as fuck.

Maybe we should stay in?

.

.

.

"I have something for you," I tell Isabella once the car is stopped.

The parking lot to the club is half full. Good. It won't be overly busy.

I don't need a bunch of jackasses looking at my girl.

"You may speak," I tell her. "But once we're in the club, you keep quiet unless I tell you otherwise."

"Okay, Sir." She smiles and tucks her joined hands in her lap.

"Because I have such a beautiful angel I've brought with me tonight, I want to make sure some devil doesn't try to steal her away." I pull out the gift and set it on her thigh, next to her hands. "Open it."

My stomach flips, and my palms sweat.

What if she hates this? What if it's too much and she freaks then bolts on me again?

I close my eyes slowly, hoping this goes well.

She holds her breath and opens it with care, taking her time.

Once the wrapping is off, she slides the top of the box off and she releases a stuttering breath. "Sir . . . It's incredible!"

"And it's my way of making sure you can't stray tonight," I say, smiling.

I open the bracelet, place it around her left wrist, and loop the thin chain around her wrist and latch the lobster claw onto the charm, hanging in the center.

"I love it. Thank you." She sighs.

"I hope you'll say that when the night's over." I kiss her cheek, and cup the back of her neck then rub noses.

"I'm sure I will, Sir."

I smile and take a breath.

"Time to go inside." I exit the car, go to her side and assist her out of the passenger seat.

I hold her hand, cupping our entwined hands with my other, keeping it protected.

After we're inside the building, I pull her into a little quiet spot.

"Now to get that leash in my hands," I say.

She gawks.

I smile with a smug, devious grin.

She extends her wrist, staring at me like she knows it's useless to balk at my plans.

I unlatch the lobster claw at the end of the thin, long, almost invisible chain and hook the end to my watch.

"Happy now, Sir?" She gives a mock glare.

"Very. If you break this chain by wandering too far from me there's gonna be a really interesting night ahead of you." I finger the chain, and my heart squeezes.

_Collar her . . ._

My gut tightens and almost threatens to shove bile up the back of my throat.

I swallow hard, my Adam's apple bobbing.

"You mean for you," she corrects me.

"Meh . . ." I shrug and burst out laughing.

She pinches her lips together and though she scowls, it's to fight off her own laughter as her shoulders shake a little.

"Just hold my hand, then you don't have to worry about how long the chain can reach," I tell her.

"Okay," she replies.

We roam out to where the hostess is seated, and I tell her who I'm looking for.

Before she can look them up, I see him heading our way.

"Simon," I greet my friend when he approaches us.

Isabella's head is respectfully tipped down, and she casts her gaze to the floor.

"Edward, you came. We didn't think you'd actually show. We heard about your new sub," Simon says.

His submissive follows behind him, her eyes also trained on the ground.

"Are you going to introduce us?" Simon asks.

"Of course." I pull her into my side. "This is my submissive, Isabella. She doesn't have permission to speak, so you'll have to forgive her for not saying hello."

"Punishments already? C'mon, Edward. It can't be that bad. Give her some room to socialize." Simon extends his hand to shake.

A lump forms in my throat. I try to clear it, but wind up coughing a wheeze instead. "Sorry, but she's not to touch anybody either. I'm keeping my gem close at hand." I smile. I'm teasing him a little since he calls his sub this all the time.

"Ahh . . . I see." Simon chuckles. "Well, Isabella, this is _my_ beautiful _gem_," he juts his chin out, "Jules. But you can ask her later if she wants you to address her as Julie instead. She usually wants her friends to call her that." He puts his hand on the small of Julie's back and propels her forward. "Gem, say hi to Edward. We haven't seen him in months."

"Hello, Sir," Julie says, a shy smile playing about her lips.

"Wow. You're still able to stomach this old perv?" I tease.

She sucks in her bottom lip and fights off a smile then ducks her head and slants it so she can see her Dom out of the side of her eye.

"Always pushing it," Simon says to me, rolling his eyes and laughing.

"Old habits and all that," I retort.

He smacks my arm and squeezes it then drops his. "Drinks are on me," he says.

"Sounds good. Where's everyone else? I wanted to introduce my girl to the rest of the group." I look around, but don't see anyone I recognize.

"Most of them actually couldn't make it, but there is one other couple. They're at the bar. I told them I'd keep an eye out for you," he explains.

"Thirsty?" I ask Isabella, turning to her.

She smiles and nods with such a small head movement I almost miss it.

"You're doing so well, so why don't you feel free to speak to me, but no one else."

She beams. "Thank you, Sir, for trusting me."

"You're welcome." I brush the back of my fingers down her cheek. So soft and flushed with a vibrant dusty pink.

We follow after Simon, and I help Isabella onto a stool at the bar.

"Edward . . . You remember Peter and his sub, Charlotte?" Simon asks.

I nod, lean forward and shake Peter's hand with my left.

His eyes go wide, and then I'm pretty sure he realizes why I used that hand, rather than the right.

"Long time, man," Peter says, smiling at me. "Keeping her close? Smart." His eyebrows raise like he's pondering my brilliant idea.

"Yeah, kind of necessary for this beautiful angel, and you're right—it's been too long since I've joined you guys." I turn to Isabella, our hands still clasped. "This is my friend, Peter. He's in a similar line of work as I am."

She smiles and tilts her head, to get a good look at Charlotte.

After a beat, Isabella's breath catches, she flushes then averts her gaze.

My eyes go wide.

What the hell was that about?

And then I look over at Charlotte to get a better understanding of what she saw that caused that reaction.

Then I see it.

Charlotte's wearing a collar out in the open. It's pretty obvious to those of us in the lifestyle. To anybody else, it's a thick diamond choker with a charm at the dip in her throat.

My heart rate picks up, my breathing deepens as my eyes go back to Isabella.

She nibbles at her bottom lip, fidgeting a little with her free hand.

_Collar her . . ._

.

.

.

After a few drinks, we move into the area of the club where people are mixing more freely, dancing and being really loud.

I released Bella's leash that attached her to my wrist so we could dance together for a few songs.

She seemed relieved when I removed it.

I gave her permission to talk with Charlotte and Julie, but not to their Doms.

The girls dance together, chatting and laughing about whatever it is they're talking about.

The men hang out at a table, waiting for the ladies to get tired and come back.

"Jesus, Edward, does she always look like that? I swear she looks like she barely had a mind-numbing orgasm thirty seconds ago. Is that normal for her?" Simon gawks at the girls, especially mine. "Her eyes haven't opened all the way since she's been here."

I give half a shrug. "I don't know. I only see her when she's around me, obviously."

He nudges my shoulder. "Well, I've been watching her while she's with the ladies, and I can't figure it out, because she's always looking at you, and her eyes are heavy the whole time. Or does dancing put her into subspace?" Simon chuckles.

"I don't think so, but music sure puts her there."

"How long have you two been together?" Simon's eyes go wide and he looks impressed.

"Well, I've known her less than a month, but she became my sub about two weeks ago. I've already put her into subspace three times."

"No shit?" Peter breaks into the conversation. "That's fast."

"She has this way about her . . ." My voice sounds needy, so I drop it a little lower. "It's amazing—once she decides to trust me, she lets go completely. It blows my mind constantly. The connection's really intense."

"Yeah, I can tell. You wouldn't even let her shake my hand. What the fuck was that about? You know I'd never do anything inappropriate," Simon says, his eyes flashing over to the girls.

"It's nothing personal. She's already tried to run from us—" I motion out to the women "—from what we have. I can't let her get spooked again."

"Why's she so flighty? Did something happen between you two already?" Peter asks, his eyes crinkled at the corner like he can't even imagine it based on what he's seen tonight between my little subbie and me.

"Her last Dom cheated on her, and she caught him. He came to her work, tried to get her back, but I intercepted. He made a huge scene, yelling about how he was the only one fucking her and was her Dom. She was ostracized by her peers, so she quit, and it freaked her out pretty bad. Her mom didn't help much either—calling her and demanding she go to confession."

Peter's brows shoot up. "Her mom knows she's in the lifestyle?"

"No." I lean my elbow on the table. "She just likes to make her feel guilty about every little thing. She expected her daughter to be married with kids by now."

"Well, how old is Isabella?" Peter asks.

"Twenty-seven," I answer.

"What's the rush, then?" Peter rolls his eyes.

"Just collar her, already, Edward. I mean, Jesus Christ, I thought you were going to bend her over the bar and fuck her for all to see. Give her that sense of security," Simon pauses then pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, "and you, too. You need it, so you'll quit acting like an insecure Dom."

I chuckle. "I don't want to frighten her off. I'm already too intense at times when I'm scening with her." I wipe my mouth. God, she looks amazing, swaying her hips like that.

The way my mouth waters has absolutely nothing at all to do with the image assaulting my brain of me collaring her, and then fucking her ass until she comes with an earsplitting scream.

"Are you seeing this little girl? Look at her, Edward. And take a really good look," Simon says, pointing at her. "She's staring at you like she hopes you'll drag her off to a corner and end her torment right now. What the hell did you do to her?"

Peter laughs and claps me on the back. "I'm seeing the same thing, man. Looks like you better get on a collar right away."

I groan and rub my eyes for a second, losing focus of her as my eyes water. "I already bought one," I mutter under my breath.

"That's the smartest thing you've ever done," Simon says, his voice going extraordinarily loud.

"Yeah," I say, agreeing, but sounding tortured. "I think she'll like it, too. It'll look magnificent around her slender, pale neck." I stare at her with so much longing, she smiles shyly at me, then as if reading my dirty thoughts, she ducks her head and turns her eyes away.

Yeah, I have one. And it's in the fucking car . . .

**A/N:**

**Oh my… who's whipping who here? Hee hee.**

**I can't get enough of the mind kink. That's where it's at for me. :D**

**Sorry, I don't have any links or visuals to share today. I'm sure you can easily find stuff on collaring ceremonies for a submissive. They're all so different, unique and overwhelmingly beautiful. I love reading about them.**

**Chanse**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Bedecked**

"How did you like tonight?" I ask her once we're in the car.

"It was nice, Sir. Both Charlotte and Julie were really great. Julie and I had a lot in common. She said I reminded her of what she was like when she first started out in the lifestyle." Isabella smiles.

My stomach ripples. I grip the wheel tighter. "You have my permission to ask her to be your mentor. I've known her for a long time, and I think she could be really good for you whenever you need someone to talk to about us, about me, or how you feel about adjusting to our life together."

I glance over at her.

She's blushing.

"What? What did I say?" I chuckle.

"You almost made it sound permanent, Sir." She blinks and casts her gaze down to her clasped hands on her lap.

"I'd like it to be. In fact," I pull the car over, "I want to talk to you about possibly accepting my collar."

She clears her throat and her fingers tighten around each other; her clasped hands almost blanch white.

"Sir?"

"What's on your mind, Isabella? Talk to me."

"I don't think I'm ready to discuss this quite yet," she replies.

"Is that a 'no,' then?"

She nods so tiny, and so meekly, I cringe.

Am I scaring her?

I reach out and run the back of my fingers down her cheek. "When you're ready. Just know this is what I want with you."

A slightly doped-up, lazy smile spreads over her face, and she leans into my touch ever so subtly, but it's there, and my heart speeds. "Could you be anymore fucking beautiful and perfect?"

She beams at me. "I feel that way about you, Sir. It's like you just stole my thoughts."

I kiss the corner of her mouth and she sighs.

"Let's go home," I say.

She blinks and nods.

As soon as we're home I tell her to go find her cushion, put it at the foot of the bed and be naked, assume the waiting position and be ready for me.

Once she disappears, I pull the collar out of the car, walk back inside and place it on the dresser, where she's sure to see it day after day.

Her presence overwhelms me in this space. My room is spacious, but she takes it over.

All I can think about is slipping this collar on her, and claiming her permanently for my own.

I run my finger over the silver, thin delicate chains, imagine this exquisite collar draped across her throat, and a tight groan escapes me.

Fuck! What's it gonna take to make her want me as much as I want her?

.

.

.

"We're going out," I say, and set the garment bag on the dresser. "You'll be wearing this tonight, and if you agree, I'd like you to at least wear this bracelet from me." I pull the box out of my pocket.

Her eyes mist and she looks lost for words.

"I will, Sir," she says.

"I'll go get your shoes. Start getting dressed."

I head into the closet, pull out the box with the new shoes I bought her, and smile. She never asked about the new box sitting in there.

Smart girl.

She knew I'd have teased her endlessly about it, and if she'd peeked? Well, it would've been all too fun punishing her.

Along with the shoes, I grab out the garter belt, stockings and at the last minute, stuff the panties back in the drawer. She doesn't need them—or rather I don't.

I chuckle and meet her back in the room where she's smoothing the skirt out.

"Stunning, angel. Simply divine," I breathe.

She smiles and ducks her head, blushing.

"I guess I'm doing this backward, but you're gonna wear these, too," I say, setting the other items on the bed.

"Why do I have a feeling you did this on purpose so you can watch me undress and dress more than once, Sir?" She purses her lips and quirks a brow.

"Chop, chop. We have somewhere to be." I smirk and take a seat in my leather, overstuffed seat in the corner of the room. The perfect spot to watch her. I set my right ankle up on my thigh right above my knee and settle in.

She fakes a scowl and teases me as her hands slip down her curves and in agonizingly slow, measured movements, she removes the dark blue, wrap-around dress.

My mouth floods and my balls tighten in anticipation of seeing her pale creamy flesh once more.

"Slower, sweetheart," I say.

I dip my head and give her a demanding look.

She moves at a sluggish pace and the dress finally pools at her feet. Her feet go up on tiptoe, accentuating the curves of her slender calves.

"Sit down on the edge of the bed. Spread those legs for me. I wanna look before you put those clothes back on." I lick my lips. "They simply don't do that luscious body justice."

She moves onto the bed with grace and a simple fluidity. Her feet balance up on her toes, her hands slide between her thighs and she pries them apart real wide for me.

"Are you wet? I want you soaked," I say with a low, husky tone.

"Yes, Sir. Always wet for you."

"Good. Dip your left index finger inside that sweet little pussy and then lick it clean for me," I say, my breathing ragged and labored now.

She smiles with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Sir, I think you'll like the taste better."

"I'm sure I would, but I like to share with you what I crave morning, noon and night." I lean forward and set my elbow on my leg. "Suck it off. Tell me what that pussy tastes like, too. I want a detailed description, and if you leave anything out, I'll force you to taste me instead and explain exactly what that tastes like in even greater description."

She flushes and her chest spasms, her nipples tighten to delectable peaks, and I'm so hard, I can feel my pulse throbbing in my legs.

"Make it two fingers, angel. One is never enough for all that creamy goodness," I say.

Her shoulders hunch up for a second, and it looks like she fights off a shudder.

"I'm waiting. And patience is something I don't possess," I remind her.

She straightens her spine, relaxes her shoulders and drags her left hand up her toned thigh and circles her slit with the pads of her fingers.

"In," I say.

She sucks in some air, holds her breath then slides them inside herself.

I can almost imagine her pussy walls clamping down and engulfing those beautiful tapered fingers.

She closes her eyes, and I palm myself.

"Pump them three times, coat 'em real good, then in that fuck-hot mouth they go," I say.

"One," she whispers and she plunges her fingers in halfway.

"Nice."

"Two," she says, her toes propping her legs up even higher, her calves straining and shaking a little. This time her fingers delve deeper into her folds.

My hand rubs with a fierceness at my cock.

"Tell me how it smells to you before you pump back in," I tell her.

She opens her eyes, and they're so luminous and wide with expectation I fight off the urge to leap off the seat and bury myself inside her.

"It smells like the faint traces of you, and there's . . ." she slides her teeth along her lower lip then takes a breath ". . . a hint of muskiness, salty essence and sort of citrus tang, only it's deeper; richer." Her chest spasms again.

"Fuck yeah, it does. I can almost smell you from here. One more thrust and then taste it."

With a mind-numbing slowness, she presses her fingers all the way in, and she must be swiping her fingers along her walls or her G-spot because it seems like it's taking much longer than necessary.

A moist popping noise envelops me when she removes her fingers, and I moan. "Fuck—you _are_ wet." I smile. Definitely no panties for her.

"Mmm," she agrees and sucks her plump bottom lip in.

"Taste."

She opens her lips, draws it out by using her juices as a lip moisturizer, painting them with her wetness. Her tongue darts out and the tip touches the top lip. She rubs her lips together and then sucks them in, followed by her fingers.

Her tongue swiped around her fingers, slips in between them and then she sucks so obscenely loud, I leak at my tip.

"Tastes like liquid, hot desire for Sir. It's salty, not really sweet at all, unless I compare it to the meatiness of an almond or some other nut—the aftertaste of a raw nut with a little bitterness. It's slippery, yet thick enough it sticks to my tongue and coats the back of my throat. I think I'll be tasting it for a few hours if you choose to withhold drink and food from me, and possibly your deep, consuming kisses."

"More, Isabella. I want to know how it makes you feel to know you're tasting the beginnings of your come, which you know I own. How does it feel to know I'm honoring you with this flavor? How do you feel knowing it's making me so hard I'm wet, too—leaking for you." I stare at her, and uncharacteristically, she stares back, does not back down, blush or hide her face from me.

"I like that it makes me feel confident and sexy to have you watching me this way—that you trust me to do this, Sir. That you want me to make you hard and tease you, since you always tease me and own my mind completely."

"More," I bark with an intensity I rarely express.

"It makes my heart so heavy and pounding, it radiates straight into my pussy. When I smell and taste myself like this—it's all due to you. Nobody makes me feel this way; only you, Sir. All you, and it makes me feel special and cherished."

I get up, prowl after her. "You have no idea exactly how special you are to me. There's no one like you, angel, and not one woman on this planet can compare to you. Only you make me this way." I grab her wet fingers and place them on my straining, covered cock. "Trace it with your fingers all the way down to my balls. Feel exactly what you did to me just now."

She smiles briefly then her expression changes to one of concentration as her two fingers roam down my stiff cock.

"It's so hard—that has to hurt, Sir." Her eyes shift up and she gazes at me through her lashes.

I bend over and palm her tits. "Well, I'll live. You'll be dealing with a wet, slippery pussy, so I'd say we'll both be dealing with our issues."

I pull her hand off me and grab the stockings. "I'll dress you."

She sits straight and her feet rise up on toes once more.

I bunch up one thigh-high hose in my fists and am careful to not overly-strain it since I know this silken fabric can be punctured with an overzealous man's hands.

"Lift the right leg," I say.

She complies.

I roll it up her foot and over her heel.

"Set your foot down."

Her leg moves where I need it to be, her toes find the ground and wiggle for a second as I make sure to caress my fingers up her calf. I lean in and kiss her inner thigh right before I cover it up.

"That feels nice, Sir."

"I'm glad to hear it. Lift the left," I say.

She does, and I bunch up the other hose and do the same to that leg.

"Stand." I grab the garter belt and as soon as she's upright, I clasp it behind her then follow it up with a tight smack to her pert ass. "I'm gonna enjoy fucking you tonight with these on."

She giggles and I groan because that sound of hers impossibly lengthens my cock more.

"Will that make you flood your thighs if I do that some more?" I bite the side of my lip, making my grin lopsided.

"Only one way to find out," she challenges, her brow flitting up.

"Bend over the bed, and I want you on tiptoes. Do not wobble, or you'll be in trouble, little girl." I swing her around, grip her shoulders and put her in position.

Her ass is splayed out before me, and I pull my belt off with trembling fingers.

I lightly flick it across her cheeks repeatedly, and knead her ass every few seconds, bringing some blood up to the surface.

When her skin has warmed nicely . . .

_Thwwwaaaack!_

"Fooooohhhhuuuhh," she exhales in a slow, sultry way.

_Thwwwaaaack!_

_Thwwwaaaack!_

"Gawwwd, I'm . . ."

"_Wet_?" I taunt.

"Very," she breathes.

"Let me see," I say, and I drop my belt across her lower back and slip my fingers inside her.

_Fwwwiiiick, fwwwiiiick, fwwwiiiick._

My fingers are sucked inside her as I probe and explore. She's not soaking, but she's getting there.

I'll just have to get her to that state while we're out.

"Time to get dressed, little, wet angel." I pull her back up to standing straight, squeeze her ass and my insides tighten at the grunt she emits when my fingers dig in.

"Bend over and get that dress for me," I say. "Keep your knees locked, legs straight.

She tries to move around me since I'm practically on top of her.

The second her hands touch the fabric, I drop to my knees, bite her left cheek and reach toward her front then pinch her clit.

"Ffffuuuuuck!" she grits.

"I'm sure you'd love that, but we're running out of time. You keep distracting me." I chuckle when her leg shakes from my licking and blowing across her crack.

She holds the dress in her hands, her body doubled over, waiting for instructions. My belt falls off her back.

"Give me the dress." I hold my palms out, she hands it to me, and I tell her to step in.

The fun's over.

I have her dress back on, she's ready to go with the exception of her shoes.

She'll have to earn those.

.

.

.

I carried her to the car, then she gave me head while fastened in by her seatbelt and swallowed all my come in one gulp as I instructed, so I now strap her heels on.

"You're no fun," I gripe.

She smiles and swipes her mouth clean with her tongue. "I get greedy sometimes, Sir."

"I can see that." I laugh, close her car door, go to the driver's side, get in and start the car.

On the drive over, I'm humming, my head's buzzing and she keeps checking me out, her eyes questioning.

"Patience, little one. You'll see soon enough where we're headed." I whistle.

Her hands rest on her thighs and every few seconds, her fingers dig in.

I grab her left hand, sniff at her fingers, and am instantly hungry for her. "God, you smell impossibly sexy. How on earth do you make your cunt smell this good?"

She shrugs with a shy innocence that makes me want her again.

I roll my eyes at myself.

We're never gonna get there if I pull over for another blow job.

I turn up the music, put her hand back in her lap and try to keep my hands to myself.

We arrive at Gammage Auditorium, and her brows spike up. "Are we going to the theater, Sir?"

"We are. It's not a concert," I tell her.

"May I ask what we're watching?"

"Wicked," I say, smirking.

"Seems appropriate for me, Sir."

I bark a laugh. "Angel, I keep expecting you to fly back home to Heaven any minute—there's nothing dirty about you at all."

"Pfft." She goes stiff. "I wish."

"You don't have to wish—you just have to tolerate this devil pursuing your hot ass relentlessly." I grip her chin and tip her head up, then kiss her so hard and so deep, she gasps.

I let go and place my face an inch from hers. "You, innocent little girl, are going to have a good time and accept every fucking compliment I give you." I pull the bracelet out that I forgot to have her put on before we left. "Wear this."

She blinks twice, and I slip it on.

"Thank you, Isabella. I'm honored to be your Dom and take you on this date."

"You're welcome, Sir, but I . . ." Her eyes dart to her wrist and she fingers the bracelet.

"You what?" I blow down across her cleavage.

Goose bumps rise. I run a finger across it, loving the sandpapery feel.

"I worry this means much more to me than it does to you." Her eyes are skittish when they flit back up to mine.

"Impossible. Until you accept my collar, I refuse to ever believe that, because I want you more than I need the next heartbeat my body produces." I smile.

Her chest flushes and it travels enticingly up her neck.

"You do?"

"What part of, 'Will you take my collar so I can stop being a psychotic mess?' were you not understanding?"

She giggles. "I don't know. I guess I thought we were rushing."

"Well, I know what I want—and it's you." I grab her hand, kiss her knuckles and watch for a reaction.

Her pupils dilate, her lips part and her breathing shallows.

"We have a show to get to. We can discuss this after. I don't want you to feel rushed—I want you to feel certain and ready. We'll get there," I say.

She squeezes my hand, and I let go.

I get out of the car, rush over to her side and help her out.

She almost floats along at my side.

We move through the place, almost lost in each other with coy glances, slight touches and small kisses.

I find our seats, and when Isabella's about to sit, a woman next to her yelps. "Bella! Is that you?"

The woman with the short, black spiky hair jumps and clasps my girl into a bear hug. "Wait 'til I tell my mom I finally caught up with you!"

"I saw you at church last week," Isabella tells her.

I wrinkle my brow. Yes, my very good angel-girl went to church, and I had to decline because I had some work to catch up on, but now I'm kicking my ass over it.

Who is this woman with her squeaky voice and hands on my angel?

I clear my throat and rest my palm on Isabella's lower back.

"Darling," Isabella says, turning to me, "this is my cousin, Allie. We grew up next door to each other. Our mothers are sisters." She turns back to her relative. "Allie, this is my boyfriend, Edward Masen."

She backs up to make space so Allie and I can shake hands.

Allie smiles, but it's stiff and guarded. "I'm so glad she's out in the dating world again. Her mom was worried she was secretly a lesbian, and she's been praying for her to return to God for months." Allie chuckles.

Isabella frowns and swallows then her eyes slam down to the floor like her heart just stopped.

I rub her lower back and then pull her into my side.

"Well, sounds like you can report back she's most definitely hetero, and nothing but a lovely, refined lady who's a devout church-going Christian. I am constantly impressed with what a sweet, gentle woman she is." I help my girl into her seat since the warning bells have chimed that the show's about to start.

"So nice to meet you, Edward," Allie says.

"Did you bring a date?" Isabella asks her cousin in a quiet tone.

"Yeah—he's getting me a drink. He'll be here soon." Allie's shoulders bounce up as she emits a giddy, girly shriek.

"Will you introduce me?" Isabella asks, leaning toward her.

The lights flicker again, and people scramble to their seats.

A few seconds later a blond haired man appears at Allie's side, hands her a water bottle and gives her a hungry look.

I wait for Allie to introduce Isabella and myself, but she doesn't. Instead, she leans into him, drops her head on his shoulder and sighs like a teenager with a crush.

I turn my head away and roll my eyes.

What's this silly woman's problem—other than needing a good spanking for being so bratty and immature?

Isabella stiffens at my side and stops breathing.

When I look back over at her, those brown eyes are filled with unshed tears.

"You okay?" I whisper in her ear.

She offers a weak smile and nothing more.

I place my palm above her knee and squeeze.

Her hand slaps down on top of mine and grips it tight like she needs the support.

She exhales with a shaky breath.

"Ignore her," I mouth. It's what I'm doing.

Isabella barely acknowledges my comment and her eyes move to the stage.

The lights go out and the show begins.

I can feel tension radiating off Isabella as Allie and her boyfriend kiss next to her.

I slip my hand under my girl's loose, flowing skirt and pinch her outer thigh.

Her leg twitches, but there's no other reaction.

I lean in once more, and blow across her ear. "If you don't stop pouting over this bitch, I'll take you to the ladies room and use my belt on you once more."

Her head flies over my direction and she scowls. "I don't think so, Sir," she whispers.

"Try me," I say, smirking.

I pull my hand out of her skirt, smack her thigh, and growl.

Her head dips down, she takes a few deep breaths, sniffs and straightens herself up, suddenly looking loose and free, without a concern in the world.

I take her left hand, kiss the knuckles like I did in the car, then suck her pungent fingers into my mouth, tickling my tongue on the underside of them.

The tension in her body returns, but this time it has nothing to do with Allie and her snubbing Isabella.

It has all the fuck to do with me, and the things I'm doing to her.

I find little ways to turn her on, keep her focused on me along with the show the entire time.

When I can tell she's ready to explode from sexual tension, I tuck her into my side, turning her so she's facing me and I discreetly slip my hand inside her top through the loose short sleeve and find her nipple. I pinch it.

Her breath traps in her throat.

I can make her come this way.

But do I want to?

She turns her fiery eyes on me every few seconds when I tug or twist her nipple.

Her nostrils flare as her breathing goes ragged. "Edwaaaard," she whimpers, "please, sweeetheart."

"You want more?" I breathe, and tighten my hold on her tip.

She nods her head and leans into my hand.

"You wanna come, angel?"

"Not here," she says quietly.

And now I absolutely must have it.

I push my fingers back further on her areola, roll and rub the pad of my thumb over the tip of the nipple.

Her eyes slide into her head and then it lowers. She squirms a little, but her body falls into my hands.

Even now, even when she's nervous, maybe even petrified to be doing this in public, she's submitting to me fully.

It's the most beautiful thing I've seen—the way she gives me her trust without fail.

"Be mine—here—now. Give me your come. You know you want to," I say softly, with a rasp, then I rub the tip of my nose along the inner left side of hers. My breath fans out across her cheek.

She sucks in a breath, and I can tell . . . She's right fucking _there_.

"No more fighting this—no fighting me. Give me your release. Let it go," I say, then kiss her eyes softly in turn, and rub my index finger and thumb together, pinching harder in the process.

I roll it with a quick flip of my fingers, and she gasps, then silently shudders and convulses in place.

She bites her lip, swallows back the sound of her orgasm, and because I'm a bastard, I keep tugging, prolonging it and even kiss her, to make it harder for her to let it subside.

I bite her lower lip and when I let go, her eyes are heavy and glassy looking.

I chuckle, rub foreheads with her and slide my hand down the back of her hair.

There's some whispering going on beside her with her cousin and her boyfriend, but I ignore it.

Isabella's satiated, and that's all that matters.

The rest of the show passes by in a blur.

At the end, her cousin barely says goodbye and seems to go out of her way to go the opposite direction from us.

What the fuck is her deal? She really needs a Dom to take her in hand.

On the drive home, Isabella receives a text.

She asks for permission to read it, and I grant it.

"Uuuunnngh," she groans and her head lolls to the side so she's staring out the window.

Without looking, she passes her phone to me.

Once I'm at a stoplight, I read it.

While my jaw snaps shut, and I'm trying not to rip the steering wheel off, another text comes through.

In a tight voice, I read them off: "Not again, Bella. He's another Mike—another controlling, abusive asshole. I can see it from a mile away. Dump him, before I tell your mother and break her heart." I stiffen in my seat and blink hard. I read the next one, the one she hasn't read yet. "Tell me he's a blind date. Seriously. He sickens me the way he practically threw you into your seat. Bastard. Run, cousin. Run away, and I'll help you if you need it. Just say the word."

I slip the phone in my pocket.

She sighs.

"I'll deal with her," I say.

She sits like a statue, most of her back turned to me.

"Who does she think she is, anyway?"

"She thinks she's my protector—always has. She's two years older than me and thinks she's my big sister, rather than my cousin. She thinks she's helping, but over the years—when I figured out this was who I was, well, she liked to rat me out. So, I kind of slowly cut off contact."

I reach out and run my finger down her spine. "You don't need to worry about her or talk to her again. We bumped into her—so what?"

The light changes, and my foot feels heavy as I speed us home.

"Sir," she huffs. "It means my mom will butt in. That's what she does."

She turns to me, eyes sad and weighted with so much confusion and worry, it's almost a look of devastation.

"How's she gonna find you? Allie knows your phone number, but that doesn't mean—"

"She finds a way. She always does, and, Sir, it's never pretty."

I grab her hand, set it on my lap and hold it there until we get home.

The second I have her inside, I set her on the bed, settle my legs between her thighs.

"What's the worst she can do?"

"I don't know. That's what worries me."

"Well, don't worry at all. I told you I'd protect you, and I will. You're going to focus on finding employment, pleasing me and nothing else. I'll take over making sure your place sells, and that she keeps away." I cup her jaw. "You ready?"

"For what, Sir?" Her brow furrows, and she looks kind of irritated with me.

"Double penetration and you screaming my name," I say.

She backs up a little on the bed. "Can I ask for something first, Sir?" her soft voice breaks and goes up in pitch.

"Of course." I set my hands at the back of her head, holding her steady, since she looks about ready to crawl out of her skin.

"I think I'd like that collar on."

My eyes go wide and my breath leaves in a rush. "If I put it on you, it's not coming back off," I warn.

"That's what I was hoping for." Her head tips back, she looks at me with a hopeful expression, and I melt in place.

"Never, Isabella. Never to be removed. I want it on you at all times."

She blinks. "I understand, Sir. And I want that, too."

"You're sure?"

"Are _you_?" She settles her weight into my hands.

If I let go, she'll fall onto the mattress.

I fist her hair. "I never had a doubt, angel."

"Then I trust you that you won't break my heart. I want it. Please give it to me if you're ready, Sir."

I let go of her; she falls and giggles.

And I run so damn fast to grab her collar, I get a stitch in my side.

A moment later I jump on the bed, straddle her, trapping her beneath my weight with nothing in my hands to offer her. I give a penetrating look and say, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow it's yours—I want this to be a special occasion. I want a ceremony."

"Okay," she says, sounding hoarse when she answers, and her eyes simmer with so many emotions, she looks ready to cry.

"I love you, Isabella."

"And I love you, Sir. Always." She goes into kowtow, and I think my heart is melting straight into the mattress.

**A/N:**

**Sorry, once more, no visuals. Nothing to add really, except I'd love to hear what you think about her acceptance of a collar. It's a big commitment, and they both know this.**

**Thanks for reading, rec'ing, and reviewing. I'm so grateful to all of you for your encouragement and support.**

**Chanse**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Collared**

How many times is that bitch gonna call and text?

I shove Bella's phone across my desk.

Allie sure has a knack for getting under a Dom's skin.

I hate that I can't text Bella since I've got her phone, but this had to be dealt with.

_Bzzzzpppp._

Another text? Is she kidding me?

I try to ignore it so I can get through a large pile of paperwork since my plan is to leave early today so I can surprise Bella for our collaring ceremony tonight.

But this bitch won't stop—Allie can't seem to keep from spewing hate.

_Bzzzzppp._

"Fuck, woman, get a life!" I groan.

I finally pick it up and read her last two messages. Mostly I've ignored them. When I have answered them, it's been with clipped, abbreviated responses.

_I talked to Mike this morning. I ran into him at Starbucks. He says you're dating a psycho, and that Edward sent somebody after him. They robbed his apartment and everything. Call me!_

I chuckle until I read the second one . . .

_Bella, I've contacted your mother. She's so upset with you, she says she'll never speak to you again. She said any daughter of hers would be smart enough to steer clear of abusive men, and so far, you've picked two in a row. I'm sorry. I thought she'd help, not disown you. Please call me!_

My God.

I take a few deep breaths, get up and stretch my neck, uncurl my fingers so I won't go after her and punch her in the face. I've never hit a woman before in anger and without consent, but for her, I just might consider changing those rules.

My mind races as I consider how to respond.

It takes a few moments to form some thoughts on how best to help Isabella and keep things at a manageable level, but it finally all hits me.

I sit down and type out a text message to Allie; done playing her little games. She needs to know who she's messing with.

_Yeah, you caught me. I'm a mob boss who sent over a couple of guys to break his knee caps. How'd you figure me out? Edward Masen, the most feared man in all of Phoenix—better watch out. Have you considered the source in all this? Mike? Are you really going to believe a proven liar and cheat, with a definite agenda? Maybe you need to rethink your strategy here. You're done trying to protect Isabella. You've made her so upset, she became physically sick over this, and that's something I'd never do to her. She needs protection from Mike, and apparently now from you, and I'll see to it that happens in a more effective way than you ever could. Regards. —Edward_

I hit send and then go through Isabella's contacts on her cell phone.

It doesn't take long to find her mother's phone number. I dial her up and know exactly what this woman needs to hear.

"Bella, I have nothing to say to you—goodbye," her mother answers.

"Well, I have plenty to say to you, Ms. Swan," I say with a curt, biting tone.

"Who is this?"

"This is Edward Masen, the man that adores your daughter. You need to know a few things before you condemn an innocent woman. You need to be careful what you assume about your daughter. I understand you're under the mistaken notion she's wanton and loose. Nothing could be further from the truth. Much to my frustration, she's a very chaste woman and refuses to sleep with me unless we're married. She learned her lesson with Mike and wants nothing more than to be in good standing with God. She's gone to confession, sought forgiveness and daily seeks to be an honest and true Christian woman. I admire her for this."

"She _has_?" her mother asks in a gasp.

I smile. "I'll swear on as many Bibles as you'd like. I'm sure you think she's living in sin with me, since her cousin probably fed you a bunch of nasty lies. I don't know who she thinks she is, but that's not my concern anymore. If you don't believe me, come to your daughter's apartment and see for yourself."

"I thought she owned a house? What happened to that place? I never got to see it," she says.

"She's selling it. She wanted some place less expensive so she could pay off her student loans quicker. She's a very sensible, responsible woman that way," I reply. I grin because lying to this woman is easy as fuck. She's a nasty judgmental woman, and I can see why my Isabella reacted the way she did with her cousin, since Allie has the same attitude. Protection is definitely warranted. Isabella doesn't need them feeding her lines of bullshit and making her feel guilty for being herself—a decent, truly lovely woman. This ends now.

"I . . . Well, I'll have to think about if I want to stop by or not. She's not the friendliest of daughters. I never feel welcome when I visit her."

I roll my eyes. There's no way my girl is unfriendly to her own mother. I can imagine her doing everything in her power to please her mother to no avail.

"I'm sure she'll accommodate you and welcome you with open arms. I'll let her know you're considering it," I say and slip my tie off. I feel suffocated by this woman, and I've barely been talking to her for five minutes, if even that. "One last thing . . ."

"Yes?"

"I want you to know she was so upset by her cousin's assumptions and your overreactions to them, that I was forced to step in as the only one truly concerned about her feelings. Her happiness means everything to me, and I'll see to it she's always protected. My only goal in this conversation is to see to her welfare, and I do it out of concern, love, and respect for her. I have never, and _would_ never, abuse her. She's too precious to me. Please consider how the things you say and do effect this beautiful, sweet, sensitive woman."

"I . . . Mr. Masen," she cleared her throat, "I don't know how she's tricked you into thinking she deserves to be on a pedestal, but—"

"She does deserve to be on a pedestal, and I won't allow you to take her off it again. Think about visiting, but other than that, you don't need to be in contact with her unless it's to tell her what a terrific person and wonderful daughter she is. Thank you for your time."

I end the call and pocket Isabella's phone.

It's difficult to focus on work, but I'm able to get through a few key pieces of paperwork I have to handle today. I _am_ going to leave early. No matter what.

Before I know it, half the day's gone.

I pull my phone out and call Isabella on my home land line, dying to hear her melodic voice; knowing the sound'll sooth my weary mind. My right hand automatically grips my phone tight, and my left digs into the back of my neck. I'm hoping she's back from her job search today.

She said she'd stop in for lunch, and it's close to that time.

I keep fighting off the urge to try and convince her to find a job where she can work from home so I can stop in from time to time and have my way with her.

But I don't want her to get sick of me. She need _some_ space—unfortunately. I grin at how ridiculous my thoughts are, at how I wish I really could chain her to me and have her with me every minute.

The phone rings and rings, until finally I think it's about to go to voicemail, but right before I end the call, I hear a breathy, "Hello? Edward? You there?"

"Angel . . . Goddamn, I love hearing your voice," I say, my entire body relaxing into my chair. "So sexy."

"_Ed-ward_ . . ."

"What? I can't stop thinking about you, and about what we're gonna do tonight. Go touch that collar for me. Or better yet, kiss it."

"Is that an order, Sir?" She chuckles.

"Fucking right it is. You're lucky I don't make you shove it up your cunt so it smells just like you and gives me a reason to lick it clean once it's fastened in place on you." I close my eyes and tip my head back. "Tonight, I'm gonna fuck you until you almost break, and all you'll wear is my collar."

"What if I change my mind at the last minute?" The smile in her voice is thick, and good thing, too, otherwise I'd be leaving work right now and chaining her up to my cross then striping her ass red.

"Not funny," I growl.

"Made _me_ laugh, Sir. A sense of humor is what it's called . . ." She giggles.

"Fuck. You have a _sick_ sense of humor, 'cause what you just did was nothing short of cruel torture," I say. "Now, get in our room and kiss that sparkling fucker for me. Tell me when you've licked it."

"Yes, Sir."

I can hear her soft footfalls, and then the unmistakable sound of her opening our door. There's the soft clink of metal being removed off the dresser, and then her soft intake of air, followed by a lip smacking sound.

"How does it taste, angel?"

"Metallic," she says, and I imagine her wrinkling her adorable little nose.

"Well, now that's not very descriptive, but since I don't have a lot of time, I want you to hold it, lay on the bed and listen to me for a few minutes. Can you do that, sweetheart?" I let go of the back of my neck and stare out the window, trying to imagine her doing this for me.

"Certainly, Sir."

"_Master_—let's practice now. I wanna hear it. Say, 'Certainly, Master.'" I exhale in a gust.

"Certainly, Master." She pauses. "_Oh_!"

"Oh, _what_?"

"I got a tingle that traveled straight down to my toes. They just curled."

"Fucking love the sound of that." I lean forward and place my forehead onto the cool window pane. "I hope that happens tonight, and I get to witness it."

"I hope so, too. I'd love that."

"Damn, little girl, you've got me so fucking hard," I tell her.

"I hear that goes well with a sub's very wet, warm pussy—I might be able to find one for you if you ask nicely, Master . . ." she coos.

"Okay, you need to be quiet now because I'm not in the mood to jack off in my office." Her jaws audibly snap shut. "Listen for a moment . . . I've been thinking you need a mentor; somebody you can talk to and confide in other than me. I want to know everything about you—be in your head constantly—but I understand women sometimes need other women as friends and to help them feel like there's somebody else out there that understands exactly what they're going through. I talked to Simon and he approves. Julie likes the idea of being a mentor for you as well, if you'd be okay with that. I know we talked about it before, and I left it up to you to decide, but I really think this will be good for you. So, what do you think? Would you like that—can I tell them you accept?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, I mean, Master—that sounds wonderful," she says, her voice filled with strong, happy emotions. "I just felt uncomfortable asking her myself since I don't really know her that well yet."

"Do you know how much I love you, little one?"

"I'm thinking it's a lot, but not nearly as much as I love you. You're amazing, Master, and I can't wait to have your constant presence of ownership surrounding me, covering me around my neck every damn day." She sniffs.

"Did I make you cry?" I fight back a chuckle. She's such a delight—the way she's touched over things so easily . . . God, I love that about her.

"Yes, _bastard_."

"That earns you a spanking tonight. I'll let you pick the implement, but I'll choose the number. Anything else you wanna say about it?" I tease.

"No, Master. I like that you make me cry through my smiles. I'm sorry I called you that. I was only teasing."

"I know you were, sweetheart. And you should know—your happy tears?—it's one of the highlights of my whole day." I chuckle. "I'm running out of time, so tell me before I go how your job hunt went today." I place my palm on the window, next to my head, still leaning into it.

"I put in several applications downtown, and one of them seemed promising. There was one guy trying to flirt with me, so I tore up my application before he could finish up with it. I told him I'm taken, Sir, and he simply leered at me. It was disgusting. He was so filthy with his eyes." Her voice goes up in pitch with shock and mortification.

"You make me proud, as always. Good girl. I'm reconsidering your swats now. Damn—I so love spanking my girl. She really gets off on it." I sigh and remove my forehead off my window and slide my hand down it until it lands at my side. "It's not really much of a punishment for you. I need to get more creative, and I like that."

"I do, too, Master."

"Fuck—do I ever love the sound of that. No more Sir from now on. Only Master." My mouth moistens.

"Whatever you say, Master. Your angel lives to please you, and if that's what you like, then that's what she shall do."

"Is it tonight yet?"

"Not as far as I can tell, Master." She exhales. "Is it okay if I go out and fill out a few more applications? I don't like sitting at home with nothing to do."

"You may. I'll expect you home by six o'clock tonight, though."

"Yes, Master."

"Okay—bye, love."

"Bye, Master. I love you."

"I love you, too. So much . . ."

I end the call and hold my breath.

I didn't tell her about her mom and Allie.

I'll tell her tonight before we do the collaring ceremony. I want her to know everything so she can make the best decision possible. She may need some time afterward to sort out her feelings, but I'm confident she'll figure out this is still the right direction for us to go.

I hope . . .

.

.

.

I drag in the shopping bags filled with all the items I managed to buy after I got off work early.

They plop down on the carpet inside my bedroom door, and I get to work, stripping off our bedspread and stuffing it in the hamper in the closet.

I pull the new one from the bag; all white with subtle flower patterns on it, and drape it over the bed.

When that's done, I arrange white candles of various sizes and shapes all around the room and then drop white rose petals all over the floor, creating an inviting path to our bed.

I finish in the bedroom with the major things I wanted to do to create the proper ambiance then I grab the bag of food and head to the kitchen.

I manage to put together a simple meal for her.

My smile never leaves my face as I roam around the place, creating various planned moods and moments we'll share.

I spread out the meal on a blanket set on the floor, where I intend to feed her.

The lights are dim, but there's a nice glow about the room once I light all the candles.

It smells heavenly in our home.

"Mmm," I hum, my chest warm and light.

I move to the playroom next and prepare it for the scene I have planned. It's all so different now—things are the same, yet the feeling inside me makes this all feel so much more important—more meaningful.

Once the playroom's set up, I go back to our bedroom, put on a fresh shirt, a white tie and a suit coat then light those candles.

I grab her collar I'll soon put on her, stuff my slip of paper with my vows into my pocket. Everything looks elegant and lovely—like _her_.

I lay out a white rose on the bed, next to the white dress I bought for her. There are even a few sprigs of baby's breath and some hair combs for her as well. I want her barefoot though so she can kneel comfortably.

The cushion is in place, and I've laid a white velvet piece of fabric over it.

My heart pounds furiously as the time nears for her to return home.

_Click, click._

The front door pushes open.

"Master, I'm here," she calls out.

"Stay where you are. Close your eyes, and I'll greet you momentarily."

"Yes, Master."

I grab a blindfold and approach her at the front door.

"I'm going to take away your sight for now. Trust me that it'll be worth it?"

"Of course, Master. I trust you implicitly."

"Perfect."

I place the white blindfold over her eyes and check to make sure it fits snugly, but not too tight.

She confirms she can't see and it's comfortable.

"You need to eat. I have a lot planned for you tonight, "I say. I string her along to the area where we'll sit and feast.

Once I've eased her down to the floor, I remove her shoes and most of her clothes. Her underwear and bra stay on.

"I've prepared this meal all for you, angel. I know it's not nearly as tasty as anything you can make, but I wanted to surprise you."

Her cheek bones and brow rise. "You _did_? Wow. I'm . . . speechless, Master. Thank you. And I have to admit, I feel a little guilty that you did this when it's my job to serve you in this manner."

I chuckle. "So goddamn sweet, you know that?" I kiss her nose. "It's nothing. Don't even worry about it. Enjoy, and open your mouth."

Her jaw pops open, and I twirl the fork into the spaghetti noodles then dip it in the marina. I sprinkle it with some Parmesan and pass it between her lips.

Of course the sauce drips on her legs, so I clean it off with my mouth.

She gasps when my tongue drags along her flesh.

Each time the sauce drops in a new location, I have to chuckle.

Before long, I've licked her tits, soaked her bra with my saliva, covered her abdomen in kisses and even sucked on her clit through her panties.

She's panting, on high alert, her head whipping around with each tiny sound.

I'm careful to keep myself clean, and somehow I succeed.

I've fed her salad, garlic bread, spaghetti, wine and my tongue. She's taken it all into her mouth and been the ever-obedient submissive.

My heart expands and grows with each moment she's here with me.

Her surprise over it all is almost too unbearably endearing.

When the meal's over I wipe her down with a warm, wet wash cloth, help her up and bring her back to our room. I dress her, even put her hair up with the combs and pin the flowers in for her. Then I maneuver her down to kneeling, give her the flower to hold, and I remove the blindfold.

She gasps when she sees me in my suit, holding my collar out to her.

"Isabella, are you ready to begin?"

She nods and gulps, her eyes wide and filled with anticipation. "I am, Master."

"Did you make some vows for me?"

"I did."

"Then, let's begin. I'll go first after I've shared something with you that you need to know," I tell her.

"Okay, Master."

"Allie sent some more nasty texts today. I figured most of them you didn't need to know about since it was mostly her ranting and trying to manipulate and guilt you into doing what she wants, but there are a few things you need to be made aware of . . ."

She blinks and rubs her lips together.

"She contacted your mother about us. Your mother's response—according to Allie—was that she had disowned you. She wanted nothing to do with you. She said your mom wouldn't be speaking to you anymore. So, I called your mother and talked to her myself. I told her you had your own apartment, that you refused to sleep with me and she could come see for herself. If she chooses to visit your fake apartment, then we'll need to make sure it looks lived in."

She shifts on her knees for a moment. "I want to cry, Master, but is it okay if I don't?" Her voice breaks.

"You do whatever you need to, angel. I don't want you to hold back if you need to cry. This is a big deal, and I'm so sorry this happened." I take a deep breath. "Do you need to stand and get a hug? Do you need a moment alone? Tell me what you need, and whatever it is, I'll provide it for you."

She blinks several times, her expression blank. "I don't know what I need other than your collar. That's what I need. I need to feel secure—_owned_. I don't think I want to wait, Master." She sets her hands on her knees with her fingers relaxed, making my brow furrow.

"Are you sure you're okay to continue? I don't wanna rush you," I say.

She shakes her head. "We've discussed all the other ramifications of this decision, and I decided before I said yes that I wanted this—that nobody else mattered—no one else would get between us. We belong together, Edward. I can feel it, and there's no way I can deny that any longer. Please, Master—if you still want to offer me your collar, then I want to accept it."

I nod and blow out a tight rush of air. "You are too perfect for words, and there's nothing more I want in this world than to make you officially mine."

She beams with such an intense innocence and unadulterated admiration, I have to lean over and kiss her.

It doesn't take long for us both to be breathless and desperate for each other.

I let go of the kiss and take a deep breath. A second later, I pull my paper out of my pocket and begin reading my vows, "My sweet angel, Isabella, I want you to know I've bedecked our room and home in white, put _you_ in white and given you this white flower because it's all a symbol of the purity of your gift. My life is irrevocably changed for the better because of you, and I want you to know this collar is also a symbol of my absolute devotion and simultaneously an oath to always protect you and keep you safe. You will forever be in my thoughts and in my heart. When it beats, it beats for you. When I breathe, it's for you—so I can be there for you, provide for your needs and show you an endless, unconditional love like you've never experienced before." I inch closer to her and take a breath. "I offer you my collar as a symbol of your submission to me. I promise to be the lover, the protector, the provider, the Dom and the man that you need at all times. I will cherish your gift of submission by promising to guide and support you in all things for the rest of our lives. You are my most precious, most pure possession, and I am honored you've placed your trust in me—I will never betray that trust. May God strike me dead if I do. Do you willingly accept my collar?"

My heart speeds and my stomach drops when she takes a very long, very torturous pause.

She bows her head and inhales then blows out with a light moaning, strangled sound.

When she looks back up at me, tears streak down her cheeks.

I smile; my heart melts after expanding violently and then proceeds to fill up the entire space in my chest. It's hard to breathe, but I do it—for _her_.

I'd do anything for my angel.

She smiles and rubs her lips together, moistened from a few stray tears. She pulls a slip of paper out of her bra and pauses before she reads it to me.

She looks up at me for a moment, and her eyes glisten with tears while she beams at me.

Her head drops back down to her paper and she begins, "Edward Masen, I accept your collar and you in my life as my Master. I almost die inside when I realize you care to know what I think, what I want in life and what makes me happy. You make me happier than I ever thought possible. When I sleep, I'll dream of you. When I wake, I'll look for you and find ways to serve you to make your life better. My collar is an outward expression of my love and devotion to you along with your ownership of me. I'm humbled you have offered it to me, and I'll endeavor to always make you proud of me. I'll always honor the powerful symbol this gift of my submission is to you, and I promise to always cherish our unbreakable bond. I give my heart, my mind, my body, my soul, and my eternal gratitude to you for saving me and allowing me to be who I am to the fullest. I am free with this collar, and it is you who have uncaged me. I accept your collar in this moment, freely and with great joy. How much joy, you'll never know because words cannot adequately express the depth of my love and devotion to you. I love you, Master. Thank you for allowing me to serve you, as unworthy as I am."

She sets the rose down she was holding in one hand and releases her paper with her vows from the other. She wiggles in her spot for a moment then places both her hands on her face, bows down and kisses both my feet. This glorious creature stays in an obedience bow for a few seconds, her arms outstretched, palms up, and tears of utter joy fill my eyes. Her body is lowered as far as it can possibly go, and my heart has expanded as much it can.

When my eyes blur because they're so moist with unshed tears and I'm ready to pull her back up to kneeling so I can collar her, she moans and then pulls herself up so fast it's done without much assistance from me.

"Thank you," she mouths, closes her eyes, lets her expression go blank and then sets her hands on her thighs and lowers her head.

Since her hair's already up, she doesn't have to assist me. I step around her; my hands tremble as I unlatch her collar and then clasp it in place.

Once it's on her, I bend over and land tiny, velvet kisses along her neck, following the chain.

"So beautiful, my submissive. No one like you," I say, my voice soft.

When I've had my fill of kissing all over her, I help her up to standing, take the flowers out of her hair, take her hair out and undress her.

She smiles the entire time, her eyes following my every move.

I pick up her vows and place it on the dresser along with mine. Next, I grab the white rose on the ground, take her hand in mine and walk backward, facing her, bringing her into our playroom. It's also covered in various white fabrics, the room aglow with white, vanilla scented candles, and I watch her surprised, honest, happy reactions.

"All for you—my angel. I've caught you, and I won't let you go. Now, let's tie you up so you can forget about even trying to fly home," I say.

She smiles so wide her eyes squint, and she nods with so much enthusiasm, she almost knocks into me.

"Good girl. You should always be in white—so fucking pure and obedient."

"Only for you, Master."

I burst into a cheek-splitting smile, because that's when I know my plan for her for the rest of the night is exactly what we both need. What an angel deserves.

**A/N:**

**Oh, bummer. Still no visuals. Sorry, but this chapter's pretty self explanatory. Didn't think it required any kind of in depth discussion.**

**However, I've still been posting teasers on my facebook group and on my blog. ;D**

**I'd love to hear what you think about how he dealt with her cousin and mom, the vows and collaring ceremony, or anything else you want to talk about. I'm here for you, angels.**

**Much love, white roses, and a man with a collar, looming over you as you kneel at his feet,**

**Chanse**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Stuffed**

I can barely breathe, I'm so overcome with emotions as I watch this beautiful creature stand before me.

"That's right, angel. I'll take care of you," I say, smiling.

She smiles back, and her eyes are so soft, so genuine, I know she'll be happy to submit to anything I please.

My left hand cups over the top of hers and my thumb caresses the satiny smooth skin there.

All at once, ideas pour into my head of exactly how soft and caring this woman is, and how I want her to feel on the outside of her body, what she makes me feel inside.

I had everything planned out, but it looks like I'll be improvising a little.

"So many days ahead of us—so many days of me taking your body, claiming you for my own, and marking you. But tonight, I only want you to feel pure bliss, pouring out on your skin," I say.

She dips her head and looks up at me through her lashes, a soft smile, spreading.

"Only feel tonight, sweetheart. That's all I want from you. No thinking, no talking, no fear. Only feel how much I love you with each touch and caress of your gorgeous skin."

She nods and bites at the inner corner of her bottom lip. "Yes, Master. This sounds wonderful."

"I sure hope so," I tease and pull her deeper into the playroom.

She gazes at all the white, draped over the normally dark, sensual colors of the leather, wood, chains and metals.

The candles flicker in corners, casting a perfect amber, humming glow, around the room.

Her navel tightens as she sucks in some air. "Thank you, Master. This is absolutely stunning."

"Not compared to you it's not."

Her eyes go heavy and her lips part.

I release my hand over the top of hers, stroke down her cheek and then cup her neck.

"The things you do to me," I say, pulling at the back of her neck, placing my forehead on hers.

I kiss her softly, purposefully, and she sighs upon my release.

"Go to the bed now before I ruin this plan by fucking you senseless," I say.

She blinks, and her face lights up.

I chuckle and shake my head. "Always loves it rough," I muse.

She pads quietly away from me.

"Face down, ass in the air, arms spread out, your white rose on the bed next to you," I say. "And those eyes need to be closed."

I go to my drawer to get the few I need. God, I can't wait to watch her mesmerizing reactions.

Her facial expressions—Lord help me. I'm already hard, thinking about the sounds and faces she makes.

When I move back to the bed, she's smiling, eyes closed and already breathing hard.

"Get that ass higher, sweetie. I know you can do it," I say, patting her closest cheek.

She lifts onto her toes, and those calves stretch and become so shapely, I lean over to drag my empty hand over one of them.

She's silky and smooth. I lick up her spine, starting at the base and end mid-back.

Time to play. I stand up straight and grab my first toy.

My hand slips inside the mitt, and I blow across the velvety rabbit fur.

Oh, God, she'll love this.

How many times can I make her squirm from pleasure tonight?

I hope there are too many to count.

My hand drops down then floats at her lower back. When it finally touches her skin, she exhales in a burst.

I roam it up and down the curve of her ass and hamstrings, and as it hits the backs of her knees, she almost giggles. Ticklish?

Hmm . . .

Where else can I get this reaction?

I skim it up her back and glance it over her ribs. She remains motionless and breathing steady, but when I round it up her arms and whisper it across her inner arms, she definitely shifts on her toes and her ass tightens.

With one hand, I shove a few loose hairs up and out of the way; it makes it easier to assault her neck with the fur. Her legs rise and fall with the movement like she's soaking up every last ounce of endorphins it's releasing.

I lean over and kiss her cheek then set the mitt at the back of her neck.

My next inclination is of course to fuck her already, but I fight off that urge and grab the rose off the bed.

I peel the petals off one at a time and decorate her back with it.

They curl up on her skin like little cups, waiting to be filled.

What a lovely thought . . .

So, I head over to my one candle she probably didn't notice, that I had out for this express purpose.

I glide across the floor and play with the flame by flicking my index finger through it.

Once I'm next to her, I say, "Go ahead and scoot up the bed. Bring your legs up there and keep them spread wide. You can open your eyes while you reposition, but keep your head trained in that direction. Once you're comfortable, close your eyes tight." I remain behind her so she can't see me or what I'm holding.

She gives an almost inaudible, "Yes, Master," and does as I bid.

My legs tighten in anticipation of being inside her, of feeling that tight cunt around me after I'd made her insides quiver from the sensual wax, hitting her skin.

I dip the tip of my finger I had in the flame a moment ago, into the wax. It coats my skin and feels amazing.

I smile then place my inner forearm a few feet below the candle and give it a little dash to make it drizzle and ensure the temperature is good.

The second it touches me, I know—fuck, she just might get off on this. I'm twitching over the sensation on my arm.

I peel the wax off and let it fall to the hardwood floor. I'll clean it up later.

I grab the bowl of ice I had set aside on the dresser in case I'll need it.

"I love you, angel, and this is gonna feel so good, you'll have no doubt how much you mean to me," I say and then kneel on the bed, close to her ribs.

I position the candle several feet above her lower back.

_Drip, drip, driiiiiip!_

Her back spasms, she gasps and her breathing is ragged in seconds. She fists the bedspread, her legs grow restless and her pelvis tilts into the mattress almost like she's grinding into it.

"Feels good . . . That's right, angel. You love it," I say.

I work around her shoulder blades, and before I know it, I've made a massive heart shape on her back.

When the wax has cooled on her skin, I grab the rose petals that fell onto the bedspread and put some on her back again. They almost wink at me with the way they curl perfectly in waiting. I slip the tip of my forefinger into one of the white petals and skate it over all the beads and bumps of lovely wax. Each time it slides off the wax and onto her skin, she jumps a little and moans.

The velvet texture in combination with her tingling skin has to feel amazing.

She thrashes for a second when my leg brushes over her ass.

Fuck, my balls tighten, and I inch closer to her pussy.

I fill a rose petal with wax, watch it overflow onto her skin and grin when she exhales with a whimper.

A few more are treated the same way, and she makes these delicious groaning sounds that make me twitch and clench my jaw to fight off the urge to nail her straight into that mattress.

Not yet . . . I can wait.

I lick and blow across her back, scattering the petals, sending them flying onto the bedspread around her.

"Eyes still closed?" I ask.

"Yes, Master. They are."

"Good girl," I say, and get up, setting the candle back where I got it from.

Then I head to the drawer I set up for this next part.

I grin as I pull out the Wartenberg wheel, butt plug, lube and three metal dildos of various sizes and shapes.

The moment I'm back to the bed, I place the metal dildos in the bowl of ice and spread the rest of my toys out on the mattress, around her legs.

I pump the lube bottle with one hand, get my finger coated and drop my chest onto the bed, my head right at her crack.

I take a deep whiff. "You smell like you want me," I say.

Her right leg twitches.

"And you smell like you wanna come. Is that what my angel wants? Did the wax turn her on and make her pussy clench over and over?" I stroke her right hamstring with my free hand and then circle my lubed finger from my other hand, around her anal opening.

"Yes, Master—very much," she says, breathily.

"That's good." I press the tip of my finger into her anus then back up.

She tightens in response. I want her more relaxed than this for what I want to do to her, so I grab the Wartenberg wheel and run it softly up the back of her right thigh.

When her calf automatically rises and her back arches, I slip my greased up finger into her ass. My pumping is slow so the sphincter can relax.

I wander the wheel across her spine, over her ribs, down her lower back and across her ass.

Watching the pinwheel leave a slightly blanched trail on her skin then turn a little pink, makes my cock bob even more. Her skin colors so easily and reacts in an instant. It's hypnotic.

The wheel draws lazy patterns on her back as if on it's own, and I now have three fingers inside her anus, pumping at a moderate rate.

When her hands are lax at her sides and her legs melting into the bed, I remove my fingers, lube up the butt plug and slip it slowly inside.

She exhales deeply when it passes the first set of ringed muscles inside, but with the second set, her body greedily slurps it in.

"Fufffffffuuuuuhhhh," she releases her breath in a way that sounds like she may come pretty easily if I fuck her now.

_No, wait._

After the plug's comfortably seated inside her, I lube up the fingers on my other hand and slide them inside her pussy.

While I stretch and open her, I pull the metal dildos out of the ice bucket with my other hand. They need to be chilly, but not give her vaginal walls frost bite.

I pulse my hand. I rock in and out of her pussy. And when she's vibrating with need, I twist the butt plug round and round, making her squirm and whimper louder.

"I'm in every portion of your body but your mouth. The only reason I'm leaving that hole vacant is because I wanna hear you scream loud and clear. When I'm making love to you tonight, I wanna hear how consumed you are by me—every last bit of your body—better tell me what this means to you. Because you're in every portion of me. I can't breathe without your name being on my lips. I can't think without your vision popping into my head, and when I think I should be working, I'm hard, considering how amazing you looked the night before coming undone under my hands." I pull my fingers out and tickle at her entrance with one of the shorter, frosty, metal dildos.

She gasps and her eyes fly open wide as the coolness hits her.

I ease the tip in, retract it and tease back and forth for several seconds before finally slipping it all the way in.

With a few plunges, she's gushing—it's hitting her G-spot perfectly.

"Ohhhh mmmmyyyy Loooord!" she cries at one point as I milk that spot real good.

When I can tell the metal's warmed and acclimated to her pussy, I pull it out, set it aside and before I know what I'm doing, my pants have dropped, and I'm shoving my dick inside her.

So many sensations surround me. Hot in some areas, residual coolness in others, but always tight and hungry for me—always clamping down on my swollen, needy head.

"Fuck, little angel, you have to torture me like this? I don't wanna come yet," I growl and pull out. "I wanted to give you more, but I can't resist you." I rub my cock's head on the lower curve of her ass.

She giggles.

I pull back, my cock out of the way and smack her ass.

She tightens her butt cheeks.

I grab then next metal dildo, this one designed to go deeper into the urethral sponge and make it ripen and be so plump and juicy, I know she'll spray later if I want her to.

Same reaction when I lube this chilled toy and work it into her.

Soft gushing, loud panting, and lots of wiggling around.

Again, I can't hold back.

I rip the metal out of her, toss the toy on the bed, and I'm inside her, biting the back of her shoulder, telling her how fucking good she feels, how much I fucking have to possess every inch of her, and then I pull out before either one of us comes.

She groans in frustration.

I chuckle and smack her ass again.

The last dildo's my favorite. It's really heavy compared to the others, and it has this wicked curved piece at the handle that should tease her clit if I do it right.

_Squiiiiiish!_

I have way more lube on it than I need, but I want her swimming in wetness.

In one swift move, I've got it inside her and I've twisted the butt plug at the same time as I inserted the metal toy.

She screams for the first time; I leak.

I leak on the dip of her knee.

Fuck that looks good.

I admire the way it glistens, barely paying attention to her groans of pleasure as the toy rocks in and out of her, until her hips buck and she cries out, "M-master, may I . . . ? Oh, God, I can't . . . I've gotta . . . P-p-pleeeease."

I snatch the toy out, ram my aching cock deep in that pussy, grab a thick shank of her hair and thrust as hard as I can.

The plug taunts me and so does her rippling ass around it, clenching and unclenching. So right when her breathing gets high pitched and almost whiney, I yank it out.

"Ohhhhhh shiiiiit! Master!" she screams so hard her whole body tightens.

She convulses, her neck whips back, and I grab under her chin, keeping her neck in full extension. I shove my index finger inside her mouth and she bites down hard.

I growl and hiss like a beast—unable to hold back. My jaw locks down when I bite her neck.

I let go when she yelps, and then I mount her like an animal, my hips higher up, giving me better torque and leverage as I rip into her. Within seconds she moans, her pussy tightens like she's about to come once more and my orgasm explodes out of me.

Shit!

I forgot. _Again_ . . .

I pull out and most of my come spurts all over her Venus dimples.

"Sssssuuuuufffffp," I suck in a winded breath and want to collapse on her, but I'm trying to keep every bit of come away from her, even though, deep inside, I already know, some of it blew inside her.

Fuck! What was I thinking?

I get up, retrieve a cleaning rag and wipe her off.

After I remove all the toys, placing them in a bowl so I can attend to them later, I tell her to stay where she is.

I open the drawer next to the bed and grab the cream I need to tend to where the wax touched her delicate skin.

I kiss, soothe with light caresses, calming words.

"Sweetheart, you're so precious to me—the way you submit is enthralling. I can't tell you how beautiful you are like that because there're no words strong or descriptive enough. I love you so much." I kiss her shoulder then move my hands up to it and knead into her muscles.

I never did tie her up. Never got around to it.

But she didn't need it. She was so busy soaking up each sensation, and she was able to control her sounds until it got too intense at the end.

A few more kisses and gentle all-over massaging, and I flip her over so she's cuddled into my chest.

"Speak to me, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

Tears suddenly streaked down her face. "Fabulous. I love you more than you'll ever know." She laughs through her tears she dries off with the backs of her hands.

"Promise?" I chuckle and squeeze her tight.

"Promise, Master. I can never leave you—not when you show me such devotion and care. This night was absolutely perfect."

"I'm glad you liked it. I did wind up deviating from my plan some." _Like fucking you bareback like a lunatic once more, thinking with my little head instead of my bigger one._

She sighs. "You smell really good." She burrows her nose into my chest and rubs it along my pecs.

"That's the remains of an angel that's rubbed off onto my skin," I say.

She smacks my chest. "No—it's all you. You get me high just from walking past and giving me a whiff. God, I love this scent."

I kiss the top of her head. "Well, I feel the same. Who needs a drink of scotch with you around? You make my head buzz all the time."

"I _do_?" Her head tips up and her big eyes are filled with wonder.

"Yes, you do. All. The. Fucking. Time. It's borderline psychotic."

She stifles a laugh by putting the back of her hand over her mouth.

"Time for a bath?" I ask.

"Please," she replies.

After a few more minutes of lazy touches and "I love you's," I pick her up and carry her to the bathroom, ignoring the guilt still etching in the back of my brain that I've had my dick in her twice, without some sort of protection.

I need to get my shit straight—_now_.

.

.

.

"Mmm . . . Master, please," a soft moan tickles at my ear, waking me out of a deep sleep.

I brush it away, but my hand bumps into a face.

When I turn around, Isabella's sliding on top of me, yanking my dick, forcing it to perform for her.

"I need you," she purrs, her eyes closed and her body rolling like waves over me. "Please, Master."

"Fuuck, Isabella . . . You're not gonna . . . Oh God!" I cry out as her mouth sucks me in.

She cups my balls, tugs on them and her fingers even toy at my asshole.

This is so unlike her, but there's no way I'm gonna stop her right now.

My vision clouds when her mouth lets go of me and she slides her tightened nipples across the wet flesh.

"Who's in charge here?" I snarl.

She ignores me and has me popped back in her mouth.

Her rounded ass is in the air, and it undulates, rocking in a suggestive way. She claws at my abs with one hand, grips into the base of my shaft and her tongue wraps around the greater portion of my erection.

I can feel it—I'm about to come already. My hands bunch at the sheets, and I suddenly have this urge to rip into something.

I push her head off, grab her by the upper arms and drag her to the edge of the bed. My hands wrap around her throat, and I have her head hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Open so goddamn wide I can see the bottom of your stomach," I grit.

Her jaw pops open and she fights off a wicked grin.

_Swwwwaaaaaaffffp._

"Oh, shit, yeah, that's what I love—your hot mouth taking me in," I say, making tiny but swift and harsh jabs with my tip at the back of her throat.

She reaches above her head to grab at my hips, and I swat her hands away then go back to placing a menacing grip around her neck.

"Put 'em on your tits and tug those delicious nips, angel," I tell her.

She chokes on a whimper the second she's touching herself, and her eyes look pained. I can't tell if they're filled with tears.

"Harder. Pull on those nipples and make them swell." I roll my fingers on the ridges along the center of her throat, pressing a little into the erogenous zone there by making the thyroid swell.

She tries to shake her head. "You will touch yourself for me _now_, as penance for trying to fuck me when I gave you no such command. And you'll pretend those are my rough fingers, owning those tits."

Her face holds an apprehensive expression. It's pretty obvious she's uncomfortable touching herself this way.

I grin—exactly why I'm making her do this. Minor punishment, and so fucking fun.

She gags for a second as I shove myself deeper in her mouth, then I slow my flexing hips, make the strokes long and so deep, I can hear the gurgle at the back of her throat. "That's right—sooo good. Open wider?"

She pulls her knees up, helping her to angle her head back even further, and enabling her throat to gape more.

"Fuck, that's good." I push further and rub it in circles at the back.

She struggles for a second, so I release her neck and circle her temples with my fingers and drift into her hair.

"Shhhh . . . Little girl, you got fucked. You tried to fuck me, and this is what happens. I take what's mine. Do you know why this happened now?"

She manages a tiny nod and her eyes look so disappointed in herself when she makes this kind of drowning in sorrow sound, that I pull out, tip her up and shove her all the way back onto the bed.

I can't fuck her. Not now. Not until I figure out some other better method of birth control. I can't be trusted anymore. Once—yeah, okay, I could kind of say it was an accident, but twice? No fucking way.

I let her watch for a moment as I pump myself fiercely and then let my come fly all over her navel.

It pools, and I swipe my palm and the flats of my fingers across it, drag it up to her lips and make her lick it off.

When she's cleaned it all off me, I return for more, until my come's gone from her skin.

She gives me a silent, pleading look that about breaks my heart.

So I get off the bed, grab a vibrator and spread her legs apart.

I roll it around her clit and when she's about to come, I pull it off and smack the erect nub.

She howls and her back arches then she pants so hard, her tongue's right at the edge of her lips. She looks like a fierce, feral animal, after a piece of meat somebody's keeping just out of range.

I place the vibrator back on, and when her legs tighten and curl toward each other, I pull it off and . . .

_Slllllllawaaaack!_

"Oh, Christ Jesus, yes!" she cries.

Her chest heaves and rolls as she gasps over and over for air.

"Again?"

"Ohhhmmm . . . Master, I . . . It's too much, I can't . . . I'll probably—if you do it again, I mean I'll . . ." She makes a pathetic whimpering sound and her head lolls back like she's already lost.

"That sounds like a yes. Don't you come until I shove whatever I choose into that cunt," I warn.

She nods and gives this pathetic, heartbreaking look.

Her shoulders round forward.

I dip down and suck that clit into my mouth.

Her nails actually claw at something behind her head. The headboard?

When I peek up at her, she's scraping the wall between the slats.

Chills race down my spine, in a creepy, yet insanely hot way. I shiver and then pinch that clit.

"Fffffiiiiihhhh," she inhales in a spiked breath.

I pull myself up onto my knees and balance with one hand, rocking back and forth, hovering and taunting her with a look.

"It throbs, doesn't it?"

"Mmhmm," she hums in a whine.

"It loves it when I do this—when I show it that it's mine," I say.

She blinks and bites her lip like she's fighting off a torturous scream.

I let go and suddenly—

_Slllllllawaaaack!_

I blast it with my slap, and right as she's about to explode, I've got three fingers inside her, burrowed up in that G-spot. I'm biting into that tiny area with my fingertips, and her hands fly into my hair and yank so hard, I feel disoriented for a second, until her hips buck up and she screams out, "Edwaaaard, G-uhawwwwd!"

And then her body collapses after several jerks and twists of my hair; her legs flailing about.

I stretch her out, lie on top of her, binding her legs together and her arms at her side.

"As much as I love that you wanted me so much you had to have it, next time, don't you dare even think about giving me head without permission."

Her face contorts in anguish. "Sorry, Master, I didn't . . . I mean, yes, I won't do that again." Her eyes shift down and water.

I nudge her chin up with my nose. "Hey, I love that you couldn't control yourself, but I'm on a limited amount of self-control right now after how amazing last night went. I want to . . ." I trail off.

How can I tell her I can think of nothing more than coming in her tight little cunt over and over?

I can't.

I really should be punishing right now with forced orgasms one right after another, but if I do that, I doubt I'll be able to keep my dick out of her. So I hug her, burrow my head into her neck and say, "I love you. You know that, right?"

I pull one of her arms out from under me so it's free.

She doesn't respond with words, but her hand traces up my back and lands at the nape of my neck. Her fingers brush against the grain and my scalp tingles.

"Tell me you love me, and you can't live without me; that you think of no other man but me," I growl. I turn my head and rest my cheek above her right breast. My tongue darts out and tastes her skin. "Even if I'm a bossy, demanding, pushy bastard—you have to say it. I need to hear it."

She intakes as big a breath as her crushed lungs will allow and she says, "Edward, if I say all that—you'll know it's a lie."

My heart shreds apart and my eyes close before water can rush out of them.

"I can't say it because the truth is—I _won't_ live without you. If you die; I do, too. I'll be a walking, empty shell of a woman with nothing to give anybody. If you're sad about something, I'm devastated. You're a bigger part of me than my blood is. You're all I know, sweetheart, so there's not a single man alive other than you as far as my brain can comprehend."

I roll her over so she's on top of me. "I take it back."

"What?" her hand flies to her collar and she grips it like it's holding her head on.

"I take back what I said. If you really need me, you do what you did tonight, and I'll try not to fuck you until you're dead. Deal?"

She chuckles, settles her forearms onto my chest, and says, "Now, how can I make a deal when you're calling all he shots?"

"Good point." I smack her tit and shove my hips up into her.

Dammit. Not a good move.

Hard again.

I groan.

Woman makes me crazy.

**A/N:**

**Sorry, no blog posts today other than a teaser. I'm actually finally out of my writer's block, and today I've already written over 6K words. Good to have my writing mojo back. ;D**

**Chanse**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Moved**

"Good news, Master," Isabella chirps in the phone.

"Do I need to leave work early to celebrate?" I ask, my fingers tapping at the edge of my desk, ready to shut my laptop and leave now if she says something I want to hear.

"My house sold! Can you believe it, Master?"

She's damn near giddy, and I'm smiling so hard, I can barely stand to sit here and not hug her tight. A small tinge of guilt plagues me simultaneously, though. I'd told her I'd deal with selling her house, but lately I've been so busy at the office, I've had to work late, and it just didn't seem feasible for me to deal with that as well.

"That's wonderful. Are you excited to feel like you have a more permanent spot at my side?"

"Mmhmm, and that's not all, Master. I think I might've found a job as well."

My heart kind of ricochets around my ribs on this news. A primitive part of me wants her home where I can reach her any time. I don't relish the idea of her being in an office where any asshole can be leering at her and maybe even be hitting on her.

_Mine!_

I bite back a growl, threatening to escape.

"Oh, someone's gonna be so happy when he gets home. I have a surprise," she sing-songs.

"How did you know a surprise was what I wanted?" I chuckle and spin to the left a little in my chair, rocking it as I go.

"Because, this girl knows you like it when she does little things like put love notes in with your lunch, Master. And if you like that, then you'll love this." She pauses then adds, "I hope."

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. Love you, sweetheart. Enjoy the rest of your day, and I'll see you when I get home," I say.

I don't want to end the call, but I'm buried in paperwork today.

"I'll be the naked one waiting in my usual spot, Master," she says and then hangs up.

My tongue clicks in my mouth, and I swallow.

Well, damn.

Can I just do this work tonight from home after she's asleep?

Right as I'm contemplating doing this, my secretary for the week, steps in, hands me what looks like two more stacks to get through.

I hide a frown and thank her, thinking a swift kick in the balls might've done less damage than what she presented me with.

My hands grip the back of my neck, I stare at the almost overwhelming stacks before me and get back to work.

Starting a business from home is beginning to sound like a more appealing and very viable option, but then I might not ever get anything done since I'd be all over my girl nonstop.

_And that's a bad thing?_

I chuckle at my insane thoughts and pull the first stack to sit in front of me.

"Oh, Jesus," I moan. This one's gonna take most of my day . . . Perfect.

.

.

.

Two days later, Bella's mother calls her to announce she'd like to visit this weekend.

Fabulous. She sold her house, so I had to scramble to rent her a furnished apartment.

It's Friday, and I just want this weekend over.

Although, Bella starts her new job on Monday, and each time I think of her at a new place of employment, my heart about plummets to the ground and I step on it to get to her.

I reach inside my pocket, making sure I've got a condom on me.

A smile replaces my wariness. I've stashed condoms all over the house, and try to have one on me at all times. No more coming inside her.

I check the clock. It's a little after one in the afternoon.

My eyes glaze over. Still got a shitload of work to do.

This office was a mess when I took it over this week.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. It's Isabella.

Another surprise?

The last one was really sweet.

She made my favorite meal and mixed me a delicious cocktail. It was waiting for me when I got home.

Very nice.

Wait. She doesn't usually call me without my requesting it unless it's really big news or something's seriously wrong like Mike trying to contact her. My brow furrows.

"Hi, sweetie," I say, answering it and thumbing through the twelve page document I simply must get through before I leave today.

"I . . . Master? I, uh, have a problem," she begins. "Can you spare a moment?"

Shit. She's pregnant. I fucked this up already . . .

My palm slaps on top of the paper and my mouth goes dry. It's difficult to breathe, to blink or even think about how pissed she must be at me right now for doing this to her.

I knew her period should've been here by now.

"Yes, go ahead," I say, my voice steady though my head pounds at a furious pace with all the ways I've screwed up.

"Well, my mom just called me. She can't visit tomorrow. She's got someone coming in from out of town unexpectedly and she wondered if she could come by today after dinner."

I chuckle and lean back in my chair, releasing the breath I was holding. "Sure. Sounds good. Anything else, angel?"

"No, that's it, Master. You're sure you're okay with this? I mean, I know you like to have things planned out," she says.

"It's fine. It's your mother, and she needs certain assurances," I say, grinning. "We'll be there. What time did you tell her?"

"Six, Master. Is that too soon for you to get off work?"

I rub my jaw and scratch my chin as I stare down at the mammoth amount of work I need to complete. "Unfortunately I'm up to my neck in some pretty sensitive documents. It's a hectic workday, but how about this—you make dinner there so the place looks more lived in. She'll smell the home cooked meal, and I'll meet you there as soon as I can get off work. Take a nap, too, if you can; I have something planned for afterward. You'll love it." She'll need this after her mother leaves; I'm certain her mother will be less than pleasant to her, though I plan to intervene if she sets in on the judgmental shit.

Isabella's sweet and polite as usual and we end the call much sooner than I'd like, but I need as much times as possible to handle this difficult client's account.

Before long, I'm halfway through this imperative case that needs utmost care, and when I glance up at the clock, it's five-thirty. Shit.

I try to finish what I was doing, pack up and sigh hard, knowing I'll most likely have to work from home tonight, and maybe even come in on the weekend at some point. This one can't wait until Monday.

In the car, I'm driving as quickly as I can. The last thing my darling girl needs is her mother looking down her nose at me for being late. At a stop light, I text Isabella quickly to let her know I'm on my way.

No reply.

I drive faster, my fists twisting on the steering column, wondering why she's not responding.

At the next stoplight, I type out another text: **You okay?**

Still nothing.

Ten minutes later, I pull into the garage for the apartment and when I step inside, a feral growl rips out of my throat.

We have guests, but it's not her mother.

"What the hell is going on?" I bark, pacing across the room to get to a terrified looking Isabella.

Once I've reach her, I shove her behind me.

There are tears staining her cheeks, and I'm already shaking as my jaw clenches and I lean forward, fists at my sides.

"You see? What did I tell you," Allie says, pointing at me.

"Why are you here?" I ask, glaring at the asshole she brought along.

"Her mother invited me," Mike says.

"And where is Mrs. Swan? I want a word with her," I hiss.

"She didn't show up. She didn't want to see Bella. I told you before, she's disowned her. She sent me in her place to prove a point. Mrs. Swan wanted Bella to see you're no better than Mike, in fact, we both think you're worse. At least Mike—" Alice flinches when I step forward, my face in hers.

"Get. Out. Now. And take this trash with you!" I say, my voice more menacing in its calmness than if I shouted as loud as I could.

"No . . . Bella, tell him we're not done talking about this," Allie says, craning her neck around me to see my girl.

"Isabella, go to the bedroom," I grind through my teeth.

She stays motionless behind me.

"Now!" I say.

"This is exactly what I've been telling you. See how he abuses and controls you?" Allie goes up on tiptoes, trying her damnedest to see her cousin.

Mike steps back, and as he tries to get to Isabella, I shove him. "Try that again, and pray I don't break your bones until they're unrecognizable as human," I snarl.

Alice points at me and gives her a nasty "I told you so!" look.

"Isabella, so help me God if you don't listen to me, there's gonna be hell to pay. Get in the bedroom now, and lock that fucking door," I say, cutting her look over my shoulder.

Her lips quiver and then she bolts from the room. A moment later the door's slammed shut, and I can hear her

drop herself down onto the bed.

"Restraining orders will be put into effect on both of you. If you come within several feet of my angel, try to contact her, be prepared for hell to come down on your heads. I won't stop protecting her, and you can tell her mom to go to hell, 'cause I'll be damned if she ever interferes like this again," I say, shifting in the way of Mike's gaze at the bedroom door.

"She doesn't deserve this," Alice cries, her hands flying up in the air, eyes widened.

"That's right—she doesn't deserve shitty people like you meddling and pretending you care. She can see now who really cares about her. She deserves me—she deserves to be loved for who she is, not told how to act and what to do. You know next to nothing about her, you sanctimonious bitch, and I'm here to make sure it stays that way."

"I know her better than you ever will," Mike snaps. He tries to step around me, and this time, I don't shove him, I grab his arm, roll around behind him, and have him shoved up against the wall with his arm twisted at an awkward angle.

"What part of restraining order are you not getting? She doesn't want you. It's time you accept that and move on. You broke her heart, and she's smarter than you give her credit for. She does _not_ want you back—not now, not _ever_. Now, get the hell out of my house before I call the cops right this instant." I shove him off the wall, making sure it scrapes at his body along the way.

Alice storms out of the place, but Mike, the douche that he is, pauses in the doorway and howls, "Bella, you don't have to do this! I love you, baby! Come back to me!"

And that's when my foot flies, hitting him in the gut and shoving him permanently out of our lives.

I slam the door shut, lock it and have the phone in hand to call the cops as he lingers by the window and pounds on it.

Right as I start dialing the police, he takes off.

I pace. I breathe. I pace some more, yanking at my hair.

What the fuck! Why didn't she call me?

I open the front door, glance around to make sure they're both gone.

No one's around. I inhale deeply, shut the door and settle myself on the outside, keeping watch.

I need space. I need to cool down so I don't freak out on Isabella and upset her worse than she already is.

I need air; need to think this through, but I can't concentrate. All I see is her lack of trust, her blatant disregard for me as her Master.

After several minutes of rubbing my chest then crossing my arms over this aching spot that's pissing me off, the door suddenly flies open and she barrels into me, making me jolt forward.

When I turn around, she's hysterically crying, "Oh, thank God! I thought you'd left me!"

She curls into a ball, falls to the ground in a heap. I sigh, pick her up, carry her inside, shut the door and lock it. Before I know what I'm doing, I've got her back in the bedroom, cornered on the bed, my cock's out and I'm approaching her.

"Now, you're going to tell me what happened," I say, stroking myself.

"It . . . My mom called and she said she had to come early, and you were really busy today. It was only supposed to be at five-thirty, and I figured you'd probably be here at the same time, since you always come home earlier than you say you will to surprise me and keep me on my toes. I'm sorry, M-Master," she says, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks. Her gaze shifts down to the bed, and her hands shake.

"And you're going to tell me why you failed to call me, and why you even opened the fucking door when you saw who was there," I say, stalking her. A moment later I'm straddling her chest and trapping her with my weight, still pumping my fist across my hot, hungry head.

"I . . . I didn't really check first, since I knew it was going to be my mom, and once I opened it, I tried to slam it shut. I really did, Master. I s-screamed and tried to push them out, but Mike was too strong. He shoved me further into the room, and Alice shut the door. None of the neighbors must've heard me shouting, so I gave up. I th-thought if I maybe juuuust listened," she gives a stuttering breath, but it's muffled by my weight, "they'd leave sooner. I hoped they'd go before you got here, but you showed up at the end of it." She closes her eyes and there's a gurgled, "Oh, God, I'm soooo s-s-sorry." She tries to shake her head, but she can't, since I've now got a hand around her throat. "I'm a horrible sub. I'm a shitty excuse for a—"

"Open that mouth wide. I'm gonna scrub it out with my dick now. Don't you ever say that about my sub. She's perfect for me."

I wrap my hand a little tighter around her throat and finger along the edges of her jugular.

When her mouth drops open, I shove my dick inside, hard.

She gags for a second, and then the tears start up again.

I slow down, making sure to keep from harming her.

But when I look down and see a look of devastation, I pull out. "Red," I say.

Her eyes go wide and she chokes back a sob that's so destructive, I have to jump off the bed and leave the room, because now I'm crying, too.

I'm the one out of control. Not her. She did what she thought was best, but fuck! She should've called me for help.

My hand shakes like a motherfucker as I tuck myself back in my pants and zip up.

I head into the kitchen, and on the counter is a lovely meal she's prepared for me.

And that's when I break into crushing tears.

She comes up behind me and I whisper, "To the room. Stay there until I come for you."

Her softly falling feet patter off, and I feel like shit sending her away. It's not that I don't want us to be able to comfort each other, but I don't want her to hear what I'm about to do.

Once her door is shut, I grab my food, head over to the table, and start eating as I call that bitch up. Lucky for me, Isabella left her phone out.

"Oh, so you figured it out, have you?" her mother answers her phone.

I grip Isabella's phone tight. "Yes, she has. She knows exactly who you are now. What kind of a mother sends the asshole that cheated on her and broke her heart to her door with her monster of a cousin?"

She starts to answer with, "A caring mother with nothing but—"

"Give me a fucking break, woman. You don't care about her. In fact, your blatant disregard for her and her wellbeing, means you deserve nothing more from her or from me." I take a calm bite and rudely eat while I talk to her; she really doesn't deserve even common manners from me. "I want to point out that you think I'm controlling, that I manipulate her and boss her around, according to her cousin, Allie. Well, did I deceive her ever? Nope." I take another generous bite. "I told her exactly who I was from day one. Do you care that she's happy with me? That we fit together with this amazing peace and harmony most people dream of? No, you don't give a shit. You're the controlling manipulative one. You've made her feel bad about herself for your own selfish purposes, and I can't even think what you gain from that except for a brokenhearted daughter."

"How dare you!" she shouts.

"No—how dare _you_. You'll face the reckoning some day, so I suggest you start practicing your excuses now, 'cause it's gonna need to be really convincing. Goodbye. Don't call her or me again. She wants nothing to do with you anymore, and I forbid you to even think about saying a word to her unless it's to grovel and apologize, and even then, I probably won't allow it." I end the call, and sit and eat, and wait.

Now what?

How do I tell Isabella what I just did on her behalf?

Will she be even more upset?

I finish my meal in silence, grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and head back to the bedroom.

On the ground, without a cushion, is a naked Isabella, in kowtow position, her forehead smashed into the carpeting.

I set the wine aside and drop down to my knees. My lips press into the back of her head, I pet her hair and stroke her shoulders and back.

My heart races as I finger the collar still around her neck.

Did Mike see it? He had to have.

Same with Allie, but I doubt she knew what she was seeing.

No wonder he was being so aggressive and panicked. He knows she's mine completely now.

It's with that thought, I pick her up, settle her in my lap.

"I love you more than anything in the goddamn world. You're safety and happiness means more to me than anything. Can you understand why I was so hurt you didn't tell me what was happening?" I stroke her cheek with my thumb and gently kiss her lips.

She nods. "I didn't have my phone on me when I opened the door. I'm so sorry, Master. I won't ever allow something like this to happen to me again. Can you ever forgive this girl for being so foolish?"

"I've already forgiven you. We both made mistakes here, but I want you to know," I kiss her eyes one at a time and wipe away the remainder of her tears, "I called your mother while I was out there. I ate your delicious meal that I'm so honored you made for me," I take a deep breath, "and I told her what she means to both of us now—absolutely nothing. I told her she's to have no further contact with you."

She gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. "She's my mother," she says muffled.

"She was, sweetheart, but not any longer. She disowned you, and she doesn't see who you are. She wants to separate us, and I can't allow that. You're mine. You've given your angel's heart and soul to me, and she doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you when she's so black inside and blinded by her own insecurities."

Isabella tucks herself up into my chest, her head under my chin. "O-okay," she sniffs.

"We can talk more about this when things settle, but for now, I'll get rid of this apartment. We obviously don't need it anymore. I'm getting a restraining order on both Allie and Mike. They won't bother you ever again," her shoulders pop up, and she takes a deep breath like she's about to say something about this being her cousin, so I interrupt, "I don't care if she's blood related or the girl you grew up with, talking about rainbows, ponies and your wedding day." She stiffens in my arms and then shudders for a second. I dip my head down and bury my lips in her hair. "She's not coming near you. That woman's a menace, and anyone that thinks bringing Mike around is going to help you, should be shot until there are no more bullets left to pierce her body with. She disgusts me."

She exhales, and I feel moisture as drops hit my pant legs and soak through.

"Sweetheart, you're too tenderhearted; too kind. These people are awful to you. I won't allow them to hurt my angel. God's put me in charge of your protection, and I take that job seriously. I want you happy."

She nods with tiny movements.

"Aren't you happy with me? I thought you were," I say in a rush of a sweeping exhale.

"Oh, yes, Master, so much," she says, and her head pops up like a scared little mouse. Her watery, weak smile reaches straight into my chest and squeezes my heart.

I chuckle. "I love you, so much. They won't hurt you again. This I vow."

Her smile brightens. "Thank you, Master. I love you more than you can know. I won't disappoint you again."

"You didn't. Now that I know how deceptive these people were, there's no doubt they're completely at fault." I pull her into my chest, hug and kiss her as I stroke her body and my soul back to life.

She's so soft and pliant as she molds her body into my hands and my mouth.

I suck on her nipples one at a time, bite and twist them until she's moaning.

My fingers are lubed and in her ass.

Double penetration again, but this time I get the back entrance.

I pull open my nightstand drawer, pull out the ben wah balls, push them inside her slicked up pussy, and then grab one of our two inch diameter VixSkin, thick dildos with a curve on the shaft. That's pressed inside her cunt now as well.

I kiss the tip of it and then pump it in and out of her several times.

That look on her face causes a growl to build low in my chest.

I lube up my fingers again and have them back in her anus, opening it more, getting it ready for me.

I have to come inside her.

There's no way when I make love to her right now I'll be able to hold back.

And a condom's out of the question after what we've just gone through.

I spread my fingers slowly to widen and stretch the sphincter while moving in and out.

She makes a mewling sound, and I close my eyes.

If I keep watching her, I'll ram my dick inside and probably hurt her.

That's the last thing I wanna do.

I kiss all along her spine, keep working my fingers inside her asshole, and when she's completely relaxed and purring in my hands, I slip the head of my cock inside.

"Fuck, Jesus, little girl—so tight."

"You filled me up, Master."

I nibble at her shoulder. "Shhh . . . I don't wanna come yet, and you're fucking driving me crazy with the way you sound all sexy, sweet and soft." I stretch my neck back, slow down my motions as I push the rest of the way inside. Goddammit, too tight.

I gasp, pull out and pinch the shit out of my tip so I don't come yet.

Never happens.

I'm never this quick to ejaculate.

"Master, are you . . . ?"

"Nnngggghhhh," I growl, "Isabella, what did I tell you?" I open my eyes.

She whispers, "Sorry."

"Just stop speaking. I want this slow, I want this so fucking heated you melt from it. No more thinking, no more talking. Take my cock inside your ass as I worship your angel body."

She rubs her lips together and her eyes soften with understanding.

"We both need this." I release my cock, and get myself lined up again.

She grips the edge of the mattress.

"Do you know how insane it makes me when others are hurting you?" I moan as I press my way back inside. "Do you know what it does to me to think about how awful these people have been to you and continue to be?"

I plunge my tongue inside her mouth, grip her tits and start a slow, sensual assault on her ass.

She tightens and releases with each thrust.

It feels like I'm the one melting, not her.

She has to know I'm hers, that she's everything to me; I'd do anything to keep her safe.

I take a breath. "Why would anyone ever want to hurt you?" I blink and suck in a tight breath then kiss her neck over and over. "They'll burn in hell, and I'll piss on their ashes. When I'm done doing that, I'll make love to you on top of it so they can see and know how wonderful you are. There's nothing dirty about you, Isabella."

Her eyes fill with tears. I cup her cheeks and hold her steady, staring into her eyes.

"You're perfect. You really have no idea how pure and incredibly good you are." I kiss the corner of her mouth.

Her lips part.

"They're jealous—they wish they were as good, so they try to bring you down to their shitty level in the gutter." I pause and kiss her again. "I won't ever do that to you. I'll try to keep you up on that cloud where you belong. I'll just follow after you and guard you so no one can yank you off it when they try to get at you. Too beautiful and too fucking heavenly—that's what you are."

She trembles, cries and grips the edge of the mattress harder.

"Touch me, angel. Make love _with_ me."

She whimpers, licks a tear rolling its way down to the corner of her mouth and then she kisses me.

And I'm lost inside her.

I can't hold back.

There's no way to stop it.

I come inside her ass before I can get her there.

She doesn't seem to mind when I pull out and it's obvious I've already orgasmed.

"Please, trust me to keep you safe," I say.

She nods, and I then make love to her with my mouth, making her softly gush all over me.

On my chest, my thighs and my softened dick.

The sound of her soft, pelting breath on my chest afterward is all I need to hear to know we're going to be fine.

No one can separate us. Not one person will succeed. We're two inseparable souls that make us both whole.

**A/N:**

**Blog post this time with the VixSkin toy mentioned. I also answered a few questions I've been getting lately about the story in regards to 24/7 Dom/sub relationships versus other arrangements.**

**Only 3 more chapters left… Thanks for reading!**

**Chanse**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Spared**

"God, I'm glad to be home," I almost whine as I enter our home.

The smell of something savory hits me. Did she make me fresh bread and cream of broccoli soup from scratch again? She just made it for me last week. I swear the woman's gonna make me soft and doughy in no time if I'm not careful. But damn, her cooking's fabulous. Need to probably put more hours in at the gym so I can keep eating it.

"Master," she says softly, kneeling by the door. I told her to stay dressed this time.

I stroke her hair and bid her to stand.

She does, and I kiss her softly.

Yep, she made my favorite soup. I can taste it on her lips.

"How was your lunch today with Julie?" I ask.

"Great, Master," she sighs and smiles with a lazy, almost doped up grin. "I really like her. She's wonderful. She told me about how her own family was really dysfunctional and how her dad disowned her as well. They haven't spoken in years."

I direct her to the table and she serves me my food first, then her own.

"Continue," I dip my head, "I wanna hear more about what she told you."

She smiles, swallows and cuts me a slice of bread. Christ, my stomach's snarling, it smells so fucking good.

"She said she's never been happier—now that she doesn't worry about her family judging her and opposing things in her life they can't or won't understand, she feels freer."

I smile and reach out, caressing her wrist. She sets down the butter knife, her breath catches in her throat and her eyes flood with pure adoration. "I love you, Master."

"I love _you_, sweetheart, and I'm so pleased to hear Julie shared all this with you." I refuse to blink. In this moment, I want to take all of her in, see every tiny movement.

Her mouth softens and her lips part. A soft breath escapes her. "She's really happy for us. She shared with me some things she knew about you, and I was so excited to hear about how—"

"She didn't talk about my past subs did she?" I frown.

"No, Master. Not at all. She told me about how you and her Master used to do crazy stuff together. I heard about your sky diving days. Sounds scary but exhilarating." Her skin flushes.

"It is. We should go sometime if you'd like to try it," I say, letting go of her wrist. I'd forgotten she might need it back.

She blinks, finishes buttering my bread then places it on the small plate before me.

"I think maybe I should start with something a little closer to the ground, like bungee jumping or something?" she squeaks and her shoulders hunch up.

"Sounds fun." I smirk.

"You really used to be quite the thrill seeker, huh?" she asks.

"I was. Don't really have time for it anymore, though, I was considering maybe taking up fencing again. I used to do it all the time; great workout, and it takes a lot of concentration. I was pretty decent at it." I take a bite of the bread, and it's so soft, it almost melts on my tongue like the butter. I moan in delight and my eyes slide up in my head.

When I return to my senses and look at her, she's beaming at me.

"I'd rather see you fence than bungee jump," she says. "Will you consider it, Master?"

"I will." I lean forward and shove her food further in front of her. "Now eat."

"I'm not that hungry, Master." She sits back in her chair.

"What's wrong? Are you ill?" I scoot closer to her and feel her forehead with my palm.

"No, I'm fine. I ate a little bit ago since I was starving, but it doesn't seem to be getting along very well with my stomach. I feel kind of queasy actually, now that I'm smelling the soup." She grimaces.

I take the bowl away and set it next to mine. "Can you at least eat some of the bread?"

"I think so, Master. I'll try." She takes a tentative bite then smiles.

"Good." I sigh. I can't even stand the thought of her being unwell; it makes me choke on my tongue when I consider her not being able to do the things she loves doing.

"Have you heard anything back from my lawyer about the restraining orders? He said he was going to contact you," I tell her.

She shakes her head and settles a palm on her stomach. Her frown deepens.

"You'll probably hear from him tomorrow," I say.

She rubs her stomach and almost whimpers.

"Okay, this is not good." I pick her up and carry her to the bed. "You need rest. Obviously, you pushed yourself too hard today at your new job, meeting up with Julie and making dinner. I'll clean up from our meal. You go to bed. We'll talk more about the lawyer business tomorrow."

"It's only been a week. Do you think he'll have it all prepared already, Master?" Her big brown eyes dig deep at me; I can feel her concerns radiating off her.

"Don't you worry about that, sweetheart. It's all gonna be fine."

She yawns and stretches then pulls the covers up over her. "I figured something out today when I was talking to Julie today, Master. Should I tell you about it real quick?"

She sounds ready to fall asleep any second. "Sure." I run the back of my fingers down her cheek.

Her eyes drift shut at the same rate as my fingers running down her face.

She leans into my touch and smiles. "I figured out I don't even want to see them again, not even if they're sorry for what they've done and they realize how horribly wrong they were."

"You don't?" My voice breaks.

"Uhn uh," she says, shaking her head a little then licking her lips. "They hurt you, and I can't stand that, Master. I don't care about what they did to me. I forgive them for that part, but the heartache they caused you is unforgivable, so they don't exist to me anymore. I'm glad you took action to protect your heart."

"And yours," I remind her.

"Yes, and mine, Master." She rolls over onto her side; yawns again. "Night."

"Goodnight, angle. I'm so proud of you for figuring all that out today. Such a smart girl."

She giggles but it's a tired, halfhearted attempt.

I exit the room quietly and as I close the door, I have to pause and watch her.

So sweet. This home has never felt like such a wonderful place before—a place I long to be every moment of my seemingly endless days.

.

.

.

Oh good God. The network of elevators in this office is absolutely ridiculous. The high-rise building is so ostentatious it's nauseating.

I roll my eyes as I step into the second set of elevators and plug in the code to get me up the next flight of a dozen levels.

Right before the doors shut, a busty blonde squeezes her way inside.

She smiles—no _leers_—at me, and I back away.

"Nice tie," she says, shuffling over to stand next to me.

The car's empty all except us.

I step away, but I've only got a foot left to maneuver before I hit the side wall.

"Thanks, my amazing wife gave it to me." And that's when it hits me. I want Isabella. Not just for the interim, but for the rest of my days. I want those words to be true. I want her to be my wife.

I blink, stunned by this incredible feeling washing over me.

"Nice suit, too. Did she purchase that for you as well?" She drags her fingertip along my sleeve.

My eyes go wide and I'm suddenly up against the wall. "No, but I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your hands off it."

"No problem," she says, stepping forward. "You're the boss for the next two weeks, right? A Mr. Edward Masen?" She pauses, looks up at me through thick, fake-looking lashes, and entirely too much makeup. It makes me want to push her away. Her cloying perfume makes me nauseous as well. "I'm your secretary—Shelly. I'm happy to show you to your desk."

The memory of me asking Isabella several weeks ago to show me to my desk, hits me like a battering ram.

This is so completely opposite from that experience, and it makes my stomach knot up in an awful, repulsed kind of way.

"No thanks. I can find it myself. Besides," I step toward the panel and hit the button to get off on the next level, "I've got some things to take care of before I step foot into that office."

The door dings and slides open, before I exit she reaches out and grabs my arm. I glare at her hand and yank it out of her grasp.

"I look forward to working with you, boss," she says, winking.

The door shuts, and I rush to the stairwell. As I'm heading straight back down to my car, I call Isabella right away.

I'll call the proper people next to say I can't work here. There's no way I can abide two weeks that with whore pawing at me like that. There's no way I'd put my angel through that.

"Master, did I forget to put something in your lunch for you this morning?" Isabella answers the call.

"No, sweetheart. Quiet for a moment—I need you to listen," I say out of breath, taking two stairs at a time and almost stumbling a few times.

"Yes, Master." She goes silent.

"This woman just hit on me, and I had to take off. I won't be working today," I say.

Nothing. I take two full breaths and not a word from her.

I didn't mean for her to be _that_ quiet. At least not once I'd told her what happened. Doesn't she care about what I just said?

"Say something," I demand, stopping myself from launching out the door so I can get to the next set of stairs.

"I . . . What should I say, Master?"

"Say you want me to leave like I'm about to do. I can't work here. She kept complimenting me and then she had the fucking nerve to put her grubby hands on me."

She gasps.

"No, no, not like that. I was almost hitting the button for the pod ejector button, and when I was about to get off on the wrong level to avoid being in the elevator alone with her, she reached out and grabbed my arm. She's completely repellent," I huff, grabbing at my hair at the nape of my neck and yanking at the roots.

"Master, what can I do to help you? She sounds disgusting . . ."

I chuckle. "God, I love you. You're too perfect." I tip my head back and hold my breath for a second. "I'm leaving. I won't work here. I can find a new situation for tomorrow or the next day."

I wish she'd called in sick today as well. She slept so soundly last night, I couldn't wake her so I could play with her before I went to bed. She was exhausted—the poor thing.

I probably need to take her to a doctor. She's been doing that more and more lately, almost nodding off during dinner. Her appetite's been off kilter, too.

I shut my eyes and swallow.

She can't be sick. I won't allow it. I'll take better care of her.

"Okay, Master. I'll try to get home early so I can take care of you," she says.

I smile. Damn woman read my thoughts and said exactly what I was thinking about her. Uncanny how she does that at times.

"No, it's unnecessary. You just got this job. It'll be fine," I tell her, and I shove the doors open.

The bright light from the sun pelts my eyes, and I have to squint so hard, my temples ache.

"I'll see you later today, angel. Enjoy your day, and eat a healthy lunch."

She giggles. "I will, Master. I packed a lot of food. I was starving this morning."

I bark a twisted laugh. "Well, no doubt. After how hard I fucked you into the bed and then into the shower this morning, you had to be ravenous. Eat more, please. I'll rest better knowing I'm not making you lose weight from too much sexual exertion."

"I will. I promise," she replies.

"God, I miss you already. Five o'clock can't come soon enough." I navigate my way into the parking garage, equally as preposterous as the elevator system in this stupid place. When I tuck my hand into my pocket to retrieve my car keys, I come into contact with the condom package and grin.

"Me, too, Master. I've made sure to touch my collar all morning long. It makes me feel more connected to you."

"Sweetie, if you aren't happy at your job, you can always quit. You don't have to work. I have more than enough money to support you for life." I find my car quickly, unlock it and set my bag inside.

"I . . . Well, I don't want to be a burden, Sir."

_Sir?_ Not Master.

I cringe.

"Okay, I can tell I'm making you uncomfortable. We can discuss this later, but I do want to talk about it in more depth," I say, shoving my key in the ignition. "I'll see you tonight. I think I'm gonna stop and get another coffee before I head home, and maybe grab the _New York Times_."

"Good plan, Master. You always have the best plans," she says.

"That's because I have the best sub who inspires me." I pucker and then tell her goodbye before I drive straight to her office, strip her bare and lay her out over her desk.

I blink. Fuck. I'm hard.

I want that.

But I . . . Christ.

I start the car up, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm heading over to her office.

Her new place of employment.

I'll find a way to have her without getting her fired.

Although, I wouldn't mind if she was without a job again, but I know it might upset her.

A little wave of guilt ripples through me, but then I forget about it as I think about having her pinned under me as I fuck her swift and hard.

No one will even know I was there.

I arrive at her office fifteen minutes later, my chest heated, a little sweaty and my breaths pounding out of me in sweet anticipation.

I rush inside, greet the receptionist and tell her I'm here to see Isabella Swan.

She calls up to her office and promptly informs me, Ms. Swan's stepped out and is not in the building.

What the fuck?

As I'm exiting with my brow funneled into a deep V shape, I see the security guard I met when Mike had come to her previous workplace and thrown a fit about trying to win her back. I almost startle.

What are the odds he's working here now?

What was his name, again? Bret?

"Mr. Masen," he acknowledges me with a big toothy grin. "So good to see you."

He extends his hand, and I shake it.

"Brant," I say, the name suddenly hitting me.

"How the hell are ya?" he asks with an exuberant pump of the hand.

He lets go. I glance around the place to take in my surroundings and check once more for my girl.

"Well, I'm not having the best day. I don't suppose you have any idea of where Ms. Swan went, do you?"

I reach into my pocket and finger my phone. Of course I could call her and demand to know where she is, but I want to see what he can tell me first.

"Why, yes, I do. I was so shocked when I took on this new job two weeks ago and then when Ms. Swan started working here right after, I told her I'd walk her out to the parking lot whenever she wants. She accepted, and I've escorted her out every time so far. I just brought her to her car less than ten minutes ago. She said she was heading for an early lunch."

I smile. She's only worked here a few days, but still . . . I trust the guy, and he's very likable.

"Lunch, where?" I prod.

"Home, I believe. She seemed full of energy when she talked about it, though she didn't say much," he responds.

"Thank you. I appreciate your help." I smile and offer a small wave then exit the building.

My drive home couldn't be better.

She thinks she's gonna surprise me, but I know her plan.

My heart pounds and my palms almost sweat.

Once I'm a block away from home, I pull over and make a few phone calls to take care of what happened at the office today. I let them know the situation is unacceptable, and when they beg, I tell them I'll reconsider if they can set me up in a different office with different staff to surround me.

They almost bend over and ask me to give it to them however I like, but I don't want to rush this choice, so I tell them I'll call back later today with my final decision. For now, I'm taking the day off. They can grovel for my services all they want, but it's not gonna get them what they want—_me_. Because _I_ decide. _I_ say how it goes. They need me. I don't necessarily need them when I've got clients scrambling after me.

I pull the car back onto the road and drive home.

When I enter the door from the garage, the most delicious aroma hits me, and there in the kitchen is my sweetheart, wearing only her bra, panties and heels, and smiling at me in such a succulent way, I leap at her when she's in grabbing distance.

"Hello, Master," she says shyly.

I kiss her and growl into her mouth. "Hello yourself, gorgeous."

She chuckles and melts into my strangling hold.

"Did you call in sick?" I ask after I come up for air.

"I quit," she says.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim, pick her up, heave her over my shoulder and race back to the bedroom.

I drop her on the bed, yank her panties off, and drop down, settling my mouth on her hot, silky folds.

She moans and writhes within seconds. I smell food burning, so I pop up, race back out to the kitchen and shut all the burners off.

Looks like she made spaghetti.

Fantastic.

I grab a bottle of chocolate syrup before going back to her and snag a towel out of the hall linen closet.

She eyes me as I spread the towel out next to her, point so she'll move her ass over there, and then I set the syrup aside for a moment.

After she moves where I've shown her I want her, I strip down, pull her bra off and bind her wrists with it. I nip along her inner arm and then, I reach down and . . .

_Squuuuiiiiiirt!_

She squirms and gasps when the cold chocolate syrup lands in bursts on her chest, her navel and her thighs.

She's my edible art.

I drag my tongue along her flat belly, up her right breast and swipe my tongue around her nipple. Something catches my attention as I'm doing this.

Where those bumps always there?

I squint and take a closer look.

My tongue washes over them, and they pucker along with her nipples, but I swear . . . Those are new. Have to be. I'd know. I stare at her tits all the time, and touch them constantly.

I knead her breast, making sure there aren't any lumps that weren't there before.

Is she sick? Oh shit? Does she have breast cancer?

I sit up, panic making a boulder the size of Ohio land in my gut.

"Angel, have you been much sicker than you've let you on?" I ask.

"N-nooo, Master. I d-dont know what . . . What do you mean?" She holds her head up at an awkward angle since her hands are bound together.

"What the hell's going _on_?" I untie her. "You tell me." I point at her chest. "You have these odd bumps around your nipples that I swear were not there last week. You've been exhausted, almost falling over each night after dinner, you've been crazy with your appetite and—"

She pales and her mouth drops open. "I'm pregnant," she blurts.

"You're . . . _What_?" I whisper, my voice breaking.

"Pregnant. I just found out."

"When?" I demand, climbing off the bed and setting my hands on my hips.

"This morning after you left for work. I wanted to tell you tonight, surprise you, but then when you left work early, I knew what I had to do, so I rushed here, and I hoped if maybe I cleaned the place up real quick, made you a nice meal . . . It might cushion—"

"The blow," I finish the sentence for her. "You thought I'd be upset with you?"

She bites her lip, doesn't answer, but her eyes tell me everything.

"Stay here," I say. "Don't move."

She nods and her eyes water as her expression goes blank followed by her eyes going utterly vacant.

Shit.

We should've talked about this possibility after the first time I fucked up and went bareback. But I didn't. God knows why . . .

I head into the closet and grab the one thing I have of my mother's I couldn't part with.

We never talk about my parents, mostly because it's too painful. Maybe that's why I couldn't talk to her about the fact I slipped and came inside her twice. It would mean I could possibly be a parent. That I could . . .

Tears flood my eyes.

"You obviously have no idea what you mean to me," I say, hiding the object behind my back as I approach her.

She blinks, and I can tell she's barely containing the tears now. From void to almost crying within minutes, that's how emotional she is. Jesus, I've really fucked this up.

"I never talk about my parents because they died when I was so young, but I do have one thing I hoped to share one day with the woman of my dreams, and today, I realized in that elevator, trapped with that skanky bitch, that I want that person to be you." I take a deep breath, reveal the ring in my palm, offering it to her. "I told that woman after she complimented my tie that my wife gave it to me. That's what you already are to me—wearing my collar—but I want the entire world to recognize you as mine, including the vanilla people around us." I drop into kneeling, signifying my desire for her to be my partner in marriage. She smiles, and my chest warms when I realize she understands the significance of me down in this position. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife, angel? I can't live without you, and I have to know you'll be mine in every way."

Floods gush down her cheeks, she smiles wider and her lips part when she squeezes from her a lungs a feeble, "Yes, Master." She takes a few borderline hyperventilating breaths. Once she's calmed down a little, she stares at me. " And I do it because I feel the same way. I quit today because I knew I was carrying your child that I already love more than my very own heartbeat, which you own, by the way."

Oh, God, how she rambles.

It's adorable. _She's_ adorable.

I scramble off the ground, jump to her side then slip the ring on her finger. My brow immediately furrows; it's a little big on her.

"We'll have that resized right away," I say.

She leans forward, and without hesitation, I kiss her.

"Thank you, Master, for everything," she says, beaming.

"No, thank _you_, my sweet girl. You make me so damn happy, it should be illegal. And my life would never be the same without you."

She chuckles through her tears, and I hug her.

Within moments, I've got her beneath me as I pant her name.

"My Isabella. My soft, supple beautiful wife," I purr. No more barriers—don't need condoms anymore. Fucking wonderful. I can come in her pussy all I want.

She smiles and tugs at the back of my hair.

I tip my head back, laughing and shaking my head.

"See? This is why I have to tie you up, you do these little things that drive me fucking insane," I say, and suddenly, I'm shoving my way inside her.

I moan when I'm so deep, I can't even think about the fact this might be uncomfortable for her.

She pulls my hair harder, and takes a bigger fistful.

Damn. I need a haircut.

When her nails scratch at my scalp, it makes me push my way deeper inside her. I pull back and suck her right nipple into my mouth.

It tastes like chocolate and traces of her salty and sweet essence.

"Fuck, I'm glad you quit," I groan, smacking my lips, licking them and then going back for more.

"Me, too." She cups the back of my head. "It is all right, I quit, Master? You're sure? I did it without asking . . ."

I bite her nipple and yank. When it pops out of my mouth, she yelps. "Shut up. You know it is. Now, no more talking; screaming is the only thing allowed unless I hurt you somehow."

She grins and then sucks her lips in behind her teeth.

I almost laugh at myself at how vanilla this encounter is, but I can't stop to pull out toys, floggers or paddles.

I need this too much. And she's so warm, smelling insanely delicious and I'm so deep, my balls are plastered to her crack.

I tip my pelvis up, grip an arm around her lower back, and I slam my tip up into what I hope is her G-spot.

"Mmmmsssssuuuh," she exhales in a rush, confirming what I thought.

I do it again.

"You better be gushing all over my cock in seconds. I need my wife to come hard all over me," I say.

She nods, closes her eyes tight and a hoarse grunt flies out of her throat, her lips still tight and unmoving.

I hit that spot over and over, and I'm so fucking close, I pull out real fast, and shove my fingers inside her with my other hand. They plunge deep, sweep, prod and kiss that spongey spot inside her.

She mewls and her back arches so high, I can barely see her face anymore.

"More. Rougher. I want you crawling the bed and begging me to fuck you harder," I say.

"Mmmmnnn," she hums in a whimpering response.

I juice it, prime it and when my fingers are flooded, I pull my hand out and ram my stiff, weeping cock back inside.

She cries out when I suddenly grip her ankles, shove them up on my shoulders. I grip around her knees, and a second later, she screams, "Ohhhhhh gaaaawwwwwd!"

"That's my angel, come on my big cock. Make it swim," I say, and pump harder and faster.

When she finally convulses, scratches at the bedspread beneath her and then rasps out, "Ed-ward, I love you!" I know I'll flood her pussy so hard.

A heavy weight shoots up the back of my thighs, squeezes its way into my balls repeatedly as I shoot my come into her.

"My wife, my baby, my girl!" I growl, tipping her ass up and going deeper as I finish emptying.

My eyes close and I heave a sigh as I almost collapse.

When I manage to pry my heavy lids back open enough to slide off her and collapse at her side, all I can see is the giant diamond flashing on her ring finger.

I reach for her hand, kiss it and then her knuckles one by one.

"Love you. Say I didn't hurt you, God, please," I groan and then pull her into my side.

She's floppy, and I panic.

"Isabella!"

She chuckles and her lax arm flops around me. "If you consider feeling boneless and so fucking happy I could die now and float away without a care, then yes, you hurt me. But I know I'll want more later."

I laugh, bury my lips in her neck and hug her so tight, she wheezes with each breath.

After several minutes of licking, sucking and nipping at her pulse point, I relax into the bed and finally say, "I burned your meal, but damn, it smelled incredible."

"I have a backup in the fridge," she says.

I can feel that smirk on her face.

I smack her thigh. "Of course you do, brilliant girl. Of course you do. Always prepared."

"My Master taught me well . . ."

She rubs the ring across my back, and I sigh in relief. I couldn't teach her to be this loving, but I'm grateful she thinks I deserve to be in this bed with her. I'll take it, and I'll run with it.

**A/N:**

**No visuals today. Sorry. I do have a song for you though I'm currently obsessed with. It's called Bloodstream. I'll post that on the blog. Reminded me of this story…**

**I also posted the teaser for the next chapter on my blog as well if you want to check it out. And the minute this story's completed in 3 days from now, I'll be posting a new story set at the turn of the century in New York. I'll post the summary for it soon on my bog as well.**

**Thank you all of you for reading, rec'ing and reviewing. I appreciate all of the support and encouragement! A special thank you to Kyla for mentioning this story in her last chapter. I'm so lucky to know such wonderful ladies in this fandom!**

**Chanse**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Bound**

We've scrambled around to make a wedding happen in less than three months. She didn't want to be huge and pregnant when we married, and I wanted her to worry only about her day being special, rather than her waistline, so I agreed to this precipitous arrangement.

As I pull my tux on, I can't help but smile.

I'm sure she'll be stunning in her beautiful white dress she chose.

I had her show it to me the moment she bought it, ignoring what customs dictate.

Her shoes, veil and bouquet I left up to her.

I did buy the garter belt though, and insisted she wear it today.

Panties were optional.

I was in a generous mood.

I straighten my tie, put my shoes on and check myself in the full-length mirror.

Since neither of Isabella's parents will be here—both of them making up some lame excuse for not attending—she'll be given away by my good friend, Simon.

Julie's her maid of honor—the two of them chatting daily and having become almost like sisters.

I pin the flower onto my lapel, and work on my hair one last time.

It's misbehaving today, and looks redder than usual. Dammit, I want to look perfect for her.

I want to give her the world.

Will she be able to see it in my eyes the second she takes one step down the aisle, what a mess I am inside for her?

My hands shake as I drop them to my side.

"I give up," I say to myself. My hair'll just have to look like this.

I smooth out the sleeves on my tux coat and open the door.

The second I'm in the hallway and headed to the chapel, I'm joined by Simon.

"How is she?" I ask, my voice trembling more than my nerves.

"She's great. She's cracking jokes, smiling and gushing about you nonstop. Julie told her to stop it before she cried. My girl will never forgive Isabella if she gives her mascara tracks, running down her cheeks." He chuckles.

"Thanks for doing this for her; I appreciate it. It means a lot to both of us that you're willing to step in when her own _father_ cowers away from her mother," I say.

His brow wrinkles. "Wait—her mother decided to show up at the last minute?" He stops walking.

I pause, then realize I can't stop and chat. The priest is probably wondering where I am already. "No, she's not coming, but her Dad is obviously scared to death of being in the same state as her. Why do you think he lives so far away?"

His stride lengthens as he tries to keep up with me. He shrugs. "How Isabella ever turned out so sweet and normal with parents like that, I'll never know. I'm appalled at the stuff Jules tells me about what they've said to her. No daughter deserves to be treated that way."

I huff. "You have no idea. Her mother in particular, so I hate to say it, but I'm glad she's not coming. Less drama to worry about."

He pats my back. "I better get back to my waiting post for the bride. She'll probably be out soon."

"Hooohhhhh," I exhale in a steady stream. The bride—_my_ bride. She'll be out soon.

God, I can barely move, my knees want to buckle on me.

I quicken my pace before I collapse, and sweat beads on my brow and collects on my upper lip.

The back of my hands swipe the evidence away.

I want this, I do, but Christ, I'm nervous for some goddamn reason.

Once I find Father John at the head of the chapel I greet him with a wave.

He's all teeth and smiles and dimples as he waves me up to the front.

A few people have trickled in already, and as I shake the good Father's hand and take my spot, several people funnel into the pews.

Several in the crowd wave and say hi to me.

I say hi back, but after a while I keep my gaze focused on the hallway she'll be drifting through to get to me. She's all that matters.

I don't have any best men other than Simon, and Isabella only has Julie as a bride's mail, so I stand with only Father John at my side. His presence is comforting, but it doesn't keep the attention off me.

I can feel all eyes on me, and the more people that file in for this momentous occasion, the more my stomach tightens and goes nauseous.

It's a small affair. We invited around one-hundred people, but still, the space seems to be shrinking by the moment.

I want to reach up and yank my suffocating tie off, but instead, I nervously tap my toe.

Why isn't she out here yet?

I shift my eyes over to the side, and watch the pianist playing the traditional wedding march, but still no Isabella.

Is she ill?

Did she . . . Is the baby okay?

God, what if she's hurting?

I lurch from my spot, about to march down the aisle to get to her and find out what's going on, when Father John's arm shoots out and he catches me.

"She's right there," he whispers and his chin bobs up to motion toward her.

My neck snaps in the direction I was headed, and there's my angel, all in white with filtered, multicolored light, raining down on her from the stained glass windows above. I can almost see her wings.

I blink and step back into my spot, straightening my shoulders.

Her veil is up, not covering her eyes, so I see straight into her soul.

_I love you, Edward—and this is the best day of my life—one I'll treasure forever,_ her eyes seem to say.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I clutch the seams on the sides of my pants to keep from snatching at her as she nears me.

She barely blinks, keeping her eyes on me at all times, and her smile is shy but so warm and inviting, my mouth waters and my chest heats.

"So beautiful," I murmur.

She blushes and Simon passes her hand over to me.

"Thank you," I tell him.

He nods and quietly takes his seat.

The priest has everyone stand and begins the ceremony.

He looks at Isabella and then me, and with a bright smile he says, "My dear friends, you have come together in this church so the Lord may strengthen your love in the presence of the Church's minister and this community. Christ abundantly blesses this love. He has already consecrated you in baptism and now he enriches and bolsters you by a special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity. And so, in the presence of the Church, I ask you to state your intentions."

I go first, and it's all a blur. Some words are exchanged, but I'm so lost in her eyes, all I can do is mostly give monosyllabic answers and repeat words that are given to me.

It's like the congregation doesn't exist, and it's only the three of us in the entire chapel.

My heart thrums to a steady beat, and my breathing matches it.

He asks us both if we'll be faithful to each other, and immediately, the image of Mike pops into my head.

I repress a growl, and Isabella gives me a knowing look.

Did I grimace?

I squeeze her hand in a friendly way and smile with a light, airy feeling in my chest.

Her breath catches when I wink, and I smother a quiet chuckle.

So damn cute.

The priest talks about our acceptance of future children and what a blessing they'll be to us and our marriage.

Of course all I can think about is the act that already _got_ her pregnant.

The priest stares out at the crowd and takes a deep breath, then says, "Edward and Isabella, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

"I have," we both say in unison, gazing at each other.

He nods and continues, "Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

"I will," I say quite loudly, while hers is almost a whisper.

Her eyes mist and she gets choked up, appearing as if she's barely holding back the torrent of emotions welling up inside her.

I gulp, and my eyes water as well.

Best fucking thing I've ever done is here—now. Standing before a priest and saying I'll love her until my dying breath.

It's the only thing I will ever want to do every day of forever and with every fiber of my being.

The priest stands a little taller and says, "Since it's your intention to enter into marriage, hold your right hands tightly and declare your consent before God and his Church as you repeat after me." We both beam at each other and grasps hands as we recite the traditional vows after he's said them first. Both of us promise in turn to love each other through the good times and bad, along with sickness and health.

"You have declared your consent before the Church." Somebody sniffles in the audience, probably crying, but I can't stop to see who it is. The priest clears his throat and goes on, "May the Lord in his infinite wisdom and goodness, strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined together, men must not divide."

I suck in a tight breath and my feet shift, realizing this is it. We're almost done. She's almost mine in every way.

I smile so hard my jaw pops.

He says something else and there's a collective, "Amen," pronounced amongst the congregation.

Next we're told to obtain the rings.

We do, and he blesses them. And as I place hers on her finger, a warmth permeates my entire chest and then slips like warm honey down my torso and filters into my arms and legs. My head buzzes, and all traces of nervousness or even a drop of doubt, vanishes.

This is exactly what God wants us to do.

And I'm so crazy about this woman, I can't even consider what my life would be like without her.

I lean over and kiss the ring and then trace a line of small pecks down her finger, smirking all the while.

Father John clears his throat really loudly, and I chuckle.

Isabella blushes when I stand upright.

God, so adorable. Can I steal her away now and simply worship her?

She slides my ring on and my breath traps in my throat when she's audacious enough to do the same.

Naughty little subbie. I wink again.

She covers her mouth to hide her chuckle.

The crowd laughs at us, and before long, even Father John's cracking up.

"Has there ever been a couple more in love?" he asks the people in attendance.

"Nope," somebody answers in the group of people off to my right.

More snickers and then the priest is back to business.

"The Lord blesses these rings, and you are admonished to wear them all the days of your life, as a symbol of your undying love and fidelity to each other," he says.

"Amen," is said in unison.

I wiggle her ring with my thumb, and she glances down for a moment then lifts her chin and the look she gives me is nothing short of utter devotion and desire.

I swallow hard, and my heart floods with heat then expands until it's almost painfully filling my chest to its maximum capacity.

"Foooohhhh," I blow out to temper the way my heart tries to burst out of my chest.

Her shoulders pop up for a second and then relax.

I love the way she reacts to every little thing I do.

It's amazing how in sync she is with even something as small as my breathing.

"I love you," I blurt.

The priest's eyes go wide.

"I love you, too," she whispers and offers a shy little smile.

"Thank you," I reply.

The priest reaches out and pats me on the shoulder as if to say, "I know you're excited, son, but this is my show . . ."

I shrug, and she chuckles once more.

After a few more words, he finally pronounces us man and wife, and I'm allowed to kiss her.

Kiss her I do, but I keep it appropriate, no matter how much I want to take absolute control and pin her wrists behind her back.

Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she follows my lead.

When we stop the kiss, everyone claps and we exit swiftly, heading to the limo outside, where we'll be taken to the reception.

Once in the privacy of the car, I pull her into my lap, rub noses with her and kiss her much harder than I did in front of our family and friends.

My right hand drifts over her breast, squeezes it and then lowers down her belly and finds the hem of her dress.

I drag my hand up her leg and when I find the garter, I snap it on her inner thigh.

She yelps for a second then smiles at me like she can't wait until tonight either.

I pinch the spot next and bite hard into my lower lip, growling at her. "Fuck, this area's gonna be pink tonight—that I vow, angel."

She exhales in a rush and leans into my chest, snuggling into my shoulder.

"Promise?" she asks, smirking.

"Pinker than that beautiful blush you gave during the wedding ceremony," I say.

She sets her palm on my chest, and I'm certain she can feel my heart pounding.

"Mine," I breathe. "All mine. This angel belongs to me and no other."

"Always," she agrees.

We kiss, cuddle and exchange a few more words of love, barely louder than the sound of the humming engine.

Our driver keeps his eyes on the road, and I've paid him well to do exactly that, so he's unaware when I skim my hands up her thigh and finger her a little through her satin panties.

"They're white, right?" I ask.

"Yes, Master," she whispers and her eyelashes flutter. "Very white, or they were before you started touching me just now."

I chuckle. "Good answer."

"Thank you," she replies and puckers.

I kiss her once more and then pull her off my lap before I start taking what's mine right here and now.

I hold her hand and stare at her as we travel the next few minutes to the hotel where the reception's being held at.

No more words are exchanged.

None are needed.

When the limo stops, the driver lets me out first, as I've instructed, then he moves out of the way so I can open her door.

Her eyes go wide when I lean over and suddenly pick her up, bridal style, and carry her inside the hotel.

"Don't look so shocked," I say. "I pick you up all the time."

"Yeah, when you've got me shoved up against a wall," she says, rolling her eyes a little and laughing.

I pinch her ass for a second, and she squirms.

"Sorry, Master, but it's true. You know it is."

I laugh harder, my abs bouncing, making it harder to carry her.

"You're determined to make me drop you, aren't you? You don't like being carried?" I ask, my brow arching.

"My legs worked just fine the last time I checked them, Master," she says.

"Shhh . . . We're in public now, no more Master," I tell her.

She smiles her apology.

I kiss her nose.

"And you're right—your legs do work, but they're only allowed to take you where I want them to go, and right now, I want you to rest. Don't wear yourself out. We're going to dance some, drink a little, celebrate with our friends, and then I'm gonna make love to you all night—and for that—you'll need strength in your legs."

"But not in the rest of my body?" she teases.

"Oh, this little one really wants her ass to be pink, that's for damn certain," I say, chuckling.

"Shhh . . ." She mimics me. "We're in public."

I growl and nip at her ear as I pull her up higher into my chest.

When we're close to the ballroom, reserved for us, I set her down, take her by the hand and lead her in.

Several people already wait inside and they immediately approach us, hugging us both one at a time.

I'm already getting antsy.

I don't want her overwhelmed and for this to be all chaotic, so I interrupt her cousin, almost manhandling her, and I pull her over to our table.

Dinner will served in about forty-five minutes.

Once Simon's arrived, he takes control like we've arranged.

He grabs the microphone, directs people to where they should be, and after all are seated, he has the wait staff start filling drinks and taking food orders.

Soft music plays, and I fiddle with Isabella's hair, hanging down her back in ringlets.

I blow gently across her neck, watching goose bumps spring up.

I chuckle at her blush when I reach under the table and squeeze her thigh, right where I pinched her in the car.

She keeps her gaze steady though, on the people around us at their own tables.

We get to sit alone, and thank fuck, because I can't keep my hands off her, and I'd struggle even more with hiding it if we had company.

The food is fabulous, our visitors kind, and I grow weary of sharing her with everyone, especially some of the men that try to get a hug out of her.

I've stopped a few of them, politely telling them they may have a cordial handshake.

One of them even laughed, thinking I was joking until Simon stepped behind him and whispered something in his ear.

I smiled smugly at the asshole as he slunk away.

I'm sure he told him he was being overly-friendly or something to that effect.

This is why Simon's here. He gets it—he knows.

Julie acts as a gracious host, helping stragglers find a place at a table, and she sees to it they're fed.

Before long, the music is playing, and we're dancing.

I kiss her, hold her tight to my chest and ask her if she's having a good time.

She says she is, and hums to the music as she rests her cheek on my shoulder.

I try not to rush her or others through the usual events like the cake cutting, throwing her bouquet and even the toast, but I'm having a hard time not wanting to pick her up, throwing her over my shoulder and taking off.

I am, however, exceedingly patient as I remove the garter and drag my fingers down the area I pinched.

I even let it slap her leg a few times in various places, hinting at what I'll be doing tonight with various instruments.

She glows.

I fondle her ankle before removing it the rest of the way, and once it's off, I pocket it.

I'm not giving this garter to these assholes.

She gapes, and I wink yet again.

"Mine," I mouth.

She smiles so wide, her eyes turn to slits.

I drink a little more champagne, she drinks sparkling cider, and we dance a few more times then say our goodbyes.

I breathe a sigh of relief the second we're back in the limo and heading to a location that only I know about.

It's a twenty minute drive, so I ask her how she felt about the wedding, the reception, what she liked best, and really, her only complaint was her feet started to hurt from the high heels on the last few songs.

If that's the only thing she disliked, then I'm pretty damn satisfied that she received a wedding she was proud to call her own.

I tip her into my side and stroke my fingers down her back.

Within minutes she's dozing on my shoulder.

I let her rest.

With her being pregnant and all the nerves that went along with today, it's only fair to let her sleep a little.

At the hotel, I choose to tell the driver to arrange for our bags to be brought to our room, and I choose to carry her inside once more.

My arms ache a little, but I'm fine.

All the way through the hotel, she sleeps.

I called ahead, so they were expecting us, and I'm able to get us to our honeymoon suite quickly with the aid of a manger, before my arms completely fatigue on me.

He lets me in the door and asks if I need anything else.

I tell him no, that we're fine, and then he leaves.

The door clicks closed and locks behind him.

I place her gently on the bed, and rather than wake her, I pull her shoes off and fold the blanket over her.

The way her face softens as her breathing deepens tells me she's probably dreaming already.

I lay on the bed next to her, still fully dressed, and stare at her, while I brush the back of my fingers down her cheek.

So beautiful and soft, like moonlight, filtering in through our window.

She wiggles like she's about to wake up, so I remove my hand and get off the bed to keep myself from touching her.

I can behave.

Maybe.

I get up and undress, stripping down to my boxers.

After I've put the tux away, I set out my toys in the top drawer of the dresser so I'm ready for her when she wakes.

I consider ordering room service, but I don't want them arriving at the door to wake her either, so I ignore the urge to feed myself and later, her.

Instead, I grab a book out of my bag and start reading, but once I'm laying down at her side again and reading, my eyes droop and almost burn.

I close them and rest a hand on her belly.

My mind drifts and so do I . . .

.

.

.

"Sweetheart," a soft voice flits at my ear.

I rub at my neck and turn over.

"I need you, Master," that same persistent voice says and then a bare leg brushes up against the back of mine and a feminine hand runs across my back.

A kiss settles on my bare shoulder, and my eyes open while my breath seizes up in my throat.

"Please, Edward . . ." she moans my name like it's vital to her I give her what she needs.

I part my legs, grab her hand on my outer leg and make her cup my dick.

It's flaccid, but she'll change that.

When I roll over a few moments later, now semi-erect, she's down to her bra, her skimpy, white lacy panties and her garter.

"Did I say you could take off that dress?" I ask.

She blinks. "N-no, Master but I—"

I cover her mouth and smile. Time to have fun. "No more talking. From now on, you let me undress you." I smirk. She's so fun to tease.

She nods and her eyes go wide.

I release her mouth and remove her panties. When I rejoin her, she smiles then sucks her lips in to keep from talking.

"Oh, no, no, angel. Open that mouth—you're gonna get this night going for me." I sit up, push her onto her back and stretch her arms over her head. "Keep them clasped tight."

I grab the pillow on my side of the bed and shove it under her head, to prop her up a little more, then I straddle her chest and tickle her lips with my tip.

I circle around her mouth several times, and her tongue tries to dart out, but I dodge it every time.

"Have to be faster than that, if you want it," I say.

She stretches her legs and sighs.

"Wider—open real big," I say.

And when she does, I insert it, but she immediately gags.

I pull back, thinking maybe I was too quick to shove it in, but even when I barely begin thrusting, she gags and winces once more.

Suddenly, she bolts up, shoves me off her and goes flying into the bathroom.

Before I can be at her side, I hear her retching into the toilet.

Shit. I made her puke?

I rush to her aid, pulling her hair out of the way, and I crouch down, rubbing her back for her.

"Did I do this?" I ask as she grabs some toilet paper and wipes her mouth clean.

"I don't . . . My gag reflex is really high tonight, that's all," she says.

I tuck her hair behind her ears and flush the toilet for her.

"You're sure that it's only tonight?" I ask.

"No, I . . . Well, lately, when you're in my mouth, I have to concentrate really hard not to gag." She pales at her admission.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, helping her up off the floor.

"You love it so much, Master. I didn't want to disappoint you."

"God, Isabella . . ." I groan. "Tell me this shit. I read you as best I can, but this is my first time being with a pregnant woman. I'm not a mind reader. I mean," I pause, and think carefully how to phrase this so I don't upset her, "I've been reading stuff in various chat groups on what we can and can't do while you're pregnant, but this one didn't come up. I never want to hurt you."

She blinks and takes a step back, leaning up against the bathroom sink. "What can't we do?"

I laugh. "You're more concerned about what we can't do, than being offended I've been talking about our love life online to other Doms?"

She smirks. "It's up to you who you tell—I trust you, Master, so I don't care about that. Besides, those people don't know me."

"That you know of," I tease.

She pretends she's going to swat me, then she turns around and washes her hands.

I lean into her and grope her ass.

"I'm sorry I made you vomit," I say.

"It's okay. I thought I could keep it down, but it happens," she swallows then adds, "or so I've heard. You're not the only one asking around, Sir."

I smack her ass. "Is that so? And is this tone being used on purpose to see how far I'll push our restrictions?"

She chuckles. "No, Master, I'd never do that," she mocks me.

I grab her by the arms, turn the water off, lean over her and smack her ass as hard as I dare.

She sighs like it's exactly what she needs.

I run my hand over the spot I just slapped.

"You okay? Did that bother your stomach?" I ask.

"I'm green, Master. It wasn't my stomach that made me throw up—it was my throat. Other things have made me gag lately, too."

"Such as?" I smack her other cheek then manhandle it.

She sucks in a breath and releases it in a vibrating, shaky moan. Her fingers grip the edge of the counter and her ass rounds up like she wants more.

I stroke it and wait for her response. "Such as?" I repeat.

"Pasta. It's been making me want to throw up the second I look at it. Yuck!" she says, laughing at herself.

"Okay—yeah," I say, realizing she hasn't been cooking the things that used to be staples in her kitchen: spaghetti, raviolis, lasagna. I take a moment and stroke the backs of her thighs. "Anything else?"

She blushes for a second, and her shoulders rise. "Pretty much anything phallic shaped, Master."

Inside, I'm pouting. She gives great head, and I want it all the time, but this is . . . Yeah, I can deal with it.

"Thank you for telling me; I can tell that was difficult for you to share," I say.

"It was, Master. And I promise to be more forthcoming with these types of things," she says.

I turn her around and hug her. "I know you will," I say and pet her hair.

"Can you fuck me now? I'm really, really . . . I want you more than ever. You were really hot tonight," she whispers. "And I love you so much I can barely stand it."

I pinch her ass, drag her back to the bed, and I get her into a comfortable position.

With her eyes closed, I start her off with a feather flogger, making her toes curl and her body hum.

Once I've seen goose bumps cover most of her body at various points, I pull out the regular flogger and lightly tease her skin until it's flushed, she's moaning, and I have to be inside her.

That's when I push her up onto all fours, run my tongue across her ass and then land my mouth on her opening.

She's wet, she's delicious, and I take my time savoring her flavor.

I move slower than I ever have, and she's louder than I've ever heard her, mewling and groaning.

"Got my angel all worked up, have I?"

"Mmm," she moans and nods her head, circling her hips.

"Look at me," I say.

The moment her head is angled over her shoulder and her eyes are on mine, I push my way inside her, and I'm greeted by something.

My eyebrows jump up.

"For you, Master," she coos, squeezing her pussy around my cock, making the balls rub tighter against me.

An urgent uptake of air, and I fight off the urge to slam into her.

I grip her ass and pull out almost the entire way, then push in a little and retreat, but this time, I do pull out all the way.

I circle my hips, and rim her slit with my flared tip.

"You bought those for me?" I slip my fingers inside and yank on the stretchy cord, making them bounce. An animalistic growl pounds out of her. I do it again, and she makes the same, primal sound. "Or did you buy them for you, my little naughty sub?" I lean over and bite her ass.

She whimpers and says, "For you, Master. I swear." She follows it up with a lusty laugh through a strangled cry of pleasure.

I nibble on the spot, rub my fingers across the balls and then roll them around the front, inner wall of her pussy so I can stimulate her G-spot.

After several passes across the same spot, she almost collapses.

I pull my fingers out, shove my way inside her, and within seconds, she pleads, "Please, Master, permission to ccc-come?"

Her back arches and her ass tightens.

"I know you want to, but not yet," I say, angling her hips up higher as I grip her shoulder and press myself as hard into her as I can.

Her back concaves dramatically. "You inserted love balls like a sneaky little girl," I say.

God, they're rolling around and massaging my dick, so I slow down before I come too quickly.

"P-please, I gotta . . . Oh, God, I . . ." She sucks in a tight winded gust of air. "I won't come yet, I won't come yet," she chants, shaking her head.

"That's right, sweetheart. Let me take care of you." I lean over her back, let go of her shoulder and fondle her breast. I squeeze the tip of her nipple, not so hard it'll hurt since they've been really sensitive lately.

And that's when I feel something through the bra.

"What the fuck?" I pull out, turn her over, sit her up and push the cup down.

She's wearing pasties.

"Let me guess . . . For me as well?" I ask.

She blushes and nods.

I pull the other cup down and proceed to remove them both with my tongue one at a time.

When I'm done, and her nipples are all wet from my saliva, I move to my knees and cup her chin, making her watch as I drag the slit of my cock over her tight nipples.

"Ohhhhh fuck!" she whimpers, her eyes heavy and dark.

"You like that—I know you do. You like smelling it, seeing it so close to your face. You can't suck it, but you can lick it," I say. I grip the back of her neck and gently pull her toward my shaft. "Tongue out, and show me how special I am, why you bought those surprises for me."

Her devilish smile makes my balls tighten, and I almost lose it when her tongue passes over the dew of precome on my tip.

"Tastes good? Salty?"

"Mmhmm," she hums her agreement.

"Not as good as you," I say.

Her eyes light up and she kisses the tip then extends her tongue, flattens it and drags it down the underside of my cock.

"God, that's good," I groan.

She tries to lower herself, to lick my balls, but I can't take anymore.

I drag her down onto her back, spread her legs and ram myself in her harder than I intended to.

But before I can correct myself and slow down, she rasps, "Oh, fuuuuuck . . . Sorry, Master . . . I, God, I'm comiiiing."

She turns her head away from me like she's ashamed.

I cup her cheek, and say, "I'm not sorry at all."

And I let loose, making love to her with so much passion, and enjoying the fuck out of her pleasure balls, that I come apart a few seconds later, and come so hard, my legs cramp up on me.

Convulsions rock through us both, and when it's over, I roll off her.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?"

She shakes her head and catches her breath, her hand over her heart.

"Not even at the end?" I check.

"No, Master."

I turn to her and place my head on her pillow, her face an inch away from mine.

"I love you, and I loved your surprises," I say. "Thank you."

"I'm glad, and you're very welcome," she replies.

"You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all. The only thing I had trouble with was trying to fight off my orgasm, so I kept trying to think about the looks Father John kept giving you each time he mentioned children." She chuckles, and it shakes the bed.

"He did mention children quite a bit," I say.

"Yeah," she rubs her belly, "since he knows fertility is not an issue with us." She cups my cheek and her eyes tear up from laughter and tender emotions that I know are reflecting my own. "You didn't ever look at him, did you?"

"Too busy looking at this angelic face," I say.

"Well, that's probably best."

My lips curve down at the edges. "_Whyyyy_?" My head angles up a little.

"He was scowling at you each time he said children and then he'd look at my belly. Woops. Did things a little out of order, but since he was the only one there that knew I was pregnant besides us, I would shoot him a look, and he'd straighten his face."

I pull her into my chest. "Hey, that's my job to give the dirty looks."

"I know it is, Master, but you were distracted by other things."

"Yes, I was," I purr and settle her against my chest.

I kiss her head and pull the covers up over us. My hand rests on her belly, and I sigh.

"For the love of God, stop smelling so good, or you're going to wind up pregnant all the time," I warn and lick my lips, trying to get the scent of her pussy off my lips.

I think we really might be in trouble.

**A/N:**

**Pic of the love balls she inserted like a sneaky little subbie are up on my blog.**

**Enjoy your weekend!**

**Chanse**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Pushed**

We have time.

I check my watch.

Yeah, plenty of time.

I chuckle as she squirms on the balcony.

Fucking Mardi Gras.

Gotta love it.

Isabella blushes each time a woman flashes her tits and gets tossed a few strings of plastic, colorful beads.

I have her leather cuffs on her ankles, binding her to the balcony banister.

I sit behind her, drinking some tea and enjoying the view of her ass on display for me alone.

She's hidden by the banister.

We're at an angle where we can see all below us, see several of the balconies around us, but they can't see very well into ours.

"Having fun, sweetheart?" I ask her.

She slaps her palms on the top of the banister.

"Hmph," she says with a snort.

The music grows louder as the parade advances. The throngs of people mingling below, thickens.

A moment later, she fidgets.

I set my tea cup on the saucer at the table next to me. Very quietly, I pump the lube bottle next to it into my right hand and moisten it.

I saunter over to her, and once I'm up against her backside, I stroke her soft cheeks.

"A little chilly? Hmm?" I taunt her.

"Not anymore, Master," she says.

She leans her head back on my shoulder and a soft, moan comes out of her.

"You have soft limits, I get that, but right now, we're gonna have some fun," I say, kneading her cheeks more aggressively.

She groused at me last night when I fucked her in the bathroom of the restaurant, and for that, I push her harder today.

The fierce and wild drum beats reverberate around the walls, and I roam my slick fingers down her crack and probe at her anus.

"Should I take my subbie here? In front of these people and enjoy this luscious ass?"

Her head lolls and she goes lax.

I snake my left arm around her throat, not really putting any pressure there, but holding her head up and giving her support.

Her breathing deepens.

"Or, should I see if she snuck in a surprise inside that tight pussy? She likes to do that at times, to keep me on my toes. I can't decide if I wanna know or not," I say.

"Mmnnngguuh," she moans.

"Is that a yes?" I chuckle.

I pull my hand out of her cheeks, and pull my surprise out of my pocket.

After I get them all slippery from the generous amount of lube still on my hand, I gently insert them into her ass.

She gasps and her back arches, but she relaxes into it.

"I love a woman who enjoys wearing balls in all her holes," I say and then I press my finger inside.

I push the anal beads around and enjoy all the little mewls she makes and how she grips the railing.

"People down there . . . They might notice you're not watching the parade, so keep your eyes on them, darling, while I fuck you as long and as hard as I want." I yank on the ring hanging out of her ass, making the beads inside her ass move. "These are the only beads this little girl's gonna get. She won't be flashing her tits at anybody but me." I growl and then remove my hand so I can lube up my dick.

But then I think I'd rather taste her, so I maneuver myself down to sitting on the ground, prop her bare left foot up on my shoulder and shove my tongue up into her.

Every few seconds, I yank at the loop of the beads.

It garners a loud gasping grunt from her.

When I get a good rhythm going, to match the heartbeat of the drums, I let go of the anal beads and pinch her clit.

Her hips rock into my hand.

I get her to the edge, and then I stand up, grip her hips and almost sway to the music as I covertly inch my fly open.

My cock nestles into her heat, and she's so wet, I imagine it dripping down her thighs as I part her lips to make way for me.

"What am I going to find today?" I ask. I push a few stray hairs back up into her bun and bite the back of her neck.

She stiffens and then thrusts her ass back at me.

I do it again, but this time I sync up with the pumping of my hips.

Her pale neck colors nicely.

"You don't need beads around your neck, sweetheart. It's already pink from me." I bite in a different spot and she inhales sharply.

I wrap an arm around her waist.

The music gets so loud below us, I can barely hear it when I reach down and stroke her clit and she goes up an octave.

"They think you're cheering for them, hollering because you love the music, but only I know you're being fucked hard and loving every minute of it. You have no soft limits tonight when it comes to me taking your body in public, do you?" I bite at another area of her neck.

"No, Master," she almost has to shout for me to hear her.

I blow across her neck then lick the temporary necklace I've created for her.

Several more pinches to her clit, she begs to come, and I let her.

"You've been so good; pleased me immensely, so I have a present for you," I say, still thrusting into her though she's gone absolutely limp in my arms.

She didn't notice earlier when I set a blanket and a pillow outside the door of the balcony.

I rest her palms on the ridge of the banister. "Can you stand for a second on your own?"

She nods.

I rush behind us, spread the blanket and pillow quick, then ease her down, still keeping her ankles bound to the slats.

She has to bend her knees, and I love the idea that the cool air is hitting all her moistness and perhaps making it tingle like crazy.

Nobody can see us now at all, so she won't have to worry about being exposed.

I kneel next to her head, taking my dick in my hand and pumping it.

"You wanted beads—you told me with your eyes," I say.

Her eyes go wide.

"I've got some inside you, put some on the back of your neck, but every pretty little girl like you needs some in the front," I say, and right as I begin to spurt, I make sure to land some on her neck, along her cleavage and all across the top of her chest.

I finish off decorating at her navel.

"And I love to suck on anything that's wet on you," I tell her and drop down, licking my come off her belly.

Her stomach spasms, and it urges me to do more.

I stroke her pussy lips, plumping them and heating them back up.

Each lick of my tongue and pass of my fingers, stirs her up rather quickly.

I love how horny she is while pregnant. It's so easy to tease her.

"We may be limited on bondage, angel, while you have a baby inside you, but that doesn't mean we can't be creative," I say.

I rub her clit faster, harder, but not so hard her pubic area will be sore later.

All clean—or at least her stomach is. I leave the pearl necklace in place between her breasts and across her neck.

"A naughty necklace for a naughty girl," I say right before I think she might come.

"Oh, Gaaaawd," she drawls.

I lean over her, dip my tongue into my come that's gathered at the hollow of her throat and right when her orgasm hits her, I sit up, and with my other hand, yank the anal beads out of her ass.

Her back bows, she screams so loud, I swear I hear a neighbor on a nearby balcony yell, "Did someone get shot?"

I laugh so hard, Isabella smacks me in the chest.

It makes me double over and howl even louder.

"I love fucking you in public," I say, wheezing. "We need to do it more often."

She wipes the sweat off her forehead, scowls for a second and then sighs as her body melts into the ground.

I move to her ankles, unlatch the cuffs then rub her feet, ankles and calves while she snuggles up in the blanket.

The parade slowly fades away, and I go inside, bring her out some herbal tea, massage her back under the blanket and when she's tired, I carry her inside.

She sleeps, and I plan.

We have three more days of this . . .

.

.

.

On our last night in New Orleans, we stop by a haunted house. I hate anything of this nature, gives me the creeps, but Isabella's intrigued by macabre history.

We roam around at the back of the group, and she points out anything at all she finds fascinating.

I listen and smile, all the while wondering when we'll be done so we can go get some lunch.

At the end of the tour, they mention something about a palm reader down the lane who's supposed to be renowned for her skills.

"She's supposed to be the real deal," my wife says.

I stare at a strange painting on the wall and shake my head.

Really? She likes this stuff? Why?

"Did you hear me, Edward?"

I turn to her. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"One of the old men that was traveling at the back of the group with us, said he wasn't feeling well and had bought tickets as part of this package deal for the palm reader lady, this tour and lunch at some other haunted house. So, can we see her? She's supposed to be authentic."

I shrug. "If we can eat first, sure, why the hell not."

She jumps a little and smiles.

I wrap an arm around her, bring her out to the car, and she hands me the tickets.

I shove them in my pocket and drive us to a little deli not far from here.

She asks for the soup, sandwich, and salad combo, and I request a burger with sautéedonions and mushrooms. I haven't been ordering for her lately since she's queasy off and on with the pregnancy, and I never know what will set her off. I can't keep up with what her stomach will and won't accept, and I don't want her to feel sick at all if possible.

Halfway through my meal, I notice she's eaten all of her food, and stares at mine with longing.

I stop eating, set it on my plate, shove it in front of her and watch in wry amusement as she acts famished and devours it probably less than two minutes.

"Should I order us more food?" I ask.

"What? I'm hungry," she says, her brows arching.

"As well you should be. All that morning exercise takes it out of you," I say, smirking.

I made love to her before breakfast, and then had her give me a handjob in the shower.

She came twice after that when I used the detachable deluxe, shower head sprayer on her pussy in addition to the We-vibe I brought along.

There was an urgency in both of us as we groped and pounded into each other this morning.

Probably the fear of the honeymoon ending after today.

Neither of us wants to go back yet, but it's time.

I start my new job next week—closer to home, and no more traveling manager for me.

Stability and reliability were what I sought and found without too much problem.

"Along with walking around half the day," she reminds me.

"Well, there is that, but I like to take the credit for you barely being able to stand," I say.

She smiles and polishes off the rest of the burger and my remaining fries.

I order us a chocolate shake; it arrives quickly and we share it like a couple of teenagers straight out of a fifties diner.

I'd love to seat her in my lap, but I've already pushed her to exhaustion today.

Better leave her be.

I pay for the bill and finish my drink.

"Can we go see the palm reader now?" she asks with a lazy grin.

"I suppose," I say, help her move to standing and then grip the back of her elbow, leading her out the door.

I can't help but laugh at how giddy she is about seeing this con-woman.

"You're really excited about this," I observe.

"It'll be fun, Master," she says. "Don't you think?"

I just laugh and shake my head. She's serious. This is fun?

"I can think of several things I'd call fun, and most of them involve you being restrained and with leather in my hands," I say, grinning.

She beams at me. "I like that, too."

"Well, we'd have serious problems if you didn't, Mrs. Masen."

She settles her clasped hands in her lap, as if waiting patiently for me to get with it and get her door opened for her.

"I warn you though, if she starts communicating with Elvis, I'm outta here," I tease.

"Elvis isn't dead," she deadpans.

"Too fucking cute," I say and pinch her thigh.

I get out, move around to her side, open the door and she all but springs out of the car like a jack-in-the-box.

"I'm thinking I'm gonna be chasing you down soon. God, you've got the energy of a kid at an amusement park," I muse.

She smiles and shrugs in the most innocent, adorable way imaginable.

I pinch her ass and tell her to get going.

She practically bounds away from me and waits at the door.

I check to make sure I have the tickets and then knock on the door.

"Do we need an appointm—" Isabella stops mid-sentence because a woman in a purple robe with silver stars and a million bangle bracelets opens the door.

Her robe's not as shocking as her obscene outfit. It barely exists. She's got the tiniest shorts on imaginable and a neon pink tube top, her tiny breasts obviously braless as her nipples poke out.

How old is she? Thirteen? She's dressed like a colorblind adolescent. Her long lime green and white striped socks look ridiculous with gold heels on.

"What the . . . ?" I mutter under my breath and have to look away.

I barely got a glimpse of her blue dreadlocks.

"Is your mother home?" Isabella asks.

I chuckle and snort at how silly this is.

"Are you here for a palm reading?" the childlike woman asks.

"Yes," I answer, still keeping my gaze off her so I don't laugh in her face.

I can't keep the smile at bay though. This is the biggest joke ever.

"Well, step inside. I'll be right with you. I've gotta prepare for you first," she says.

"Oh, okay, but you're a . . . I see," Isabella mutters.

"I get that all the time, honey," the woman says. "Let Madam Sparkle take care of you—that's what I excel at."

"I'll bet," I murmur. She's all kinds of crazy, and probably into some psycho shit.

"Two minutes. Take a seat, please," Sparkle says, motioning to a waiting bench that's purple, padded, and shocker—_sparkly_.

I roll my eyes, but make sure my wife can't see me do it.

Isabella walks at my side, her feet ghosting over the floor.

When I glance over at her, she looks less than thrilled to be here.

"We don't have to do this. I can take us back to the hotel," I say.

"No, no, it's fine. She's not what I envisioned, but it's okay," she says, her hands fidgeting.

I grab her hand and hold it in my lap.

"What did you expect?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I guess an older lady that looks like a gypsy you see in books."

"Not a prepubescent hooker methed out and missing a hairbrush?" I joke.

She elbows me.

I lean in and kiss her.

"She's fine. It's fine," she says, sounding like she's trying to convince herself more than me.

I chuckle to myself, and scan the room.

There are all sorts of strange items strewn about the room.

A few taxidermy books, along with several, what looks like, stuffed squirrels, mounted on the walls.

Okay. Odd.

There's a coffin propped up in a corner, that's open and empty.

Next to it, a poster of Elvis.

I snort and point. "Do I need to remind you of what my hard limit is in this deal?"

She laughs and covers her mouth. "Oh my Lord!"

"Thank God I didn't pay money for this."

Her eyes shift about and settle on a basket in a corner with all sorts of yarn in it.

She gets up, and heads over to it.

"I wonder if she knits," she asks.

"Who fucking cares?" I say so quiet she won't hear.

Somehow she hears me and scowls. "I do. She's probably very nice."

"And very good at stealing people's wallets while she dazzles them with her palm reading show," I say.

"Actually, most of my clientele that come here, leave their wallet out in the cars, and their money gets stolen that way. I can't be responsible for neighborhood crimes," Sparkle says, standing in the doorway to her office, or den of wacko as I've suddenly named it.

I laugh. "Good to know. I guess if my money's gonna be snatched by somebody, it might as well be you, rather than a stranger off the street." _Maybe you can buy yourself a brush . . ._

She gives me a knowing look like she knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"And I'm not a hooker. Those days are over," Sparkle adds.

I laugh even harder.

"Let's do this," I say, getting up and holding out a hand for Isabella, to join me.

My wife was right—I haven't had this much fun in ages. This woman's hilarious.

She walks quickly across the room, takes my hand and Sparkle parts the hanging beads for us as we enter her lair.

"It's no dungeon, but I bet you'd be more comfortable in one," Sparkle says, pointing at Isabella's collar.

My spine immediately goes rigid.

I squeeze Isabella's hand to tell her to keep quiet on the subject. I ignore her comment.

"I bet you get some pretty good tips from the tourists here," I say.

Sparkle takes a seat across from us at what looks like a wobbly, pathetic excuse for a table. It has a gray silk table cloth over it with a pink crocheted cover above that.

On top, she has a stack of cards, ready to go.

"Depends. Most of them are skeptical, and even after I reveal the beyond to them, they're so taken aback, they can barely think about stuff like that. I'm happy to help them connect to their true inner selves." Sparkle leans forward and motions for us to both take a seat on a bench on our side of the table.

It matches the one out in her waiting area.

"Did you crochet this?" Isabella asks.

"Yes. It's one of my hobbies. Helps to soothe the blood in my brain," Sparkle says.

"The what?" I lean away from her.

"The blood. In my brain."

"Yeah, I heard that part, but what does that mean?"

She arches an eyebrow. "It means I'm off caffeine, and I get headaches. The blood vessels don't like it much, so when I crochet, it seems to relax them. I could explain it all in detail, but I'm sure it would bore you," Sparkle replies.

I rub at my jaw. This has got to be one of the weirdest encounters I've ever had.

She grabs her stack of cards and starts loosely shuffling it without looking.

"You are old enough to do this, right?" I ask her before she begins.

"Do you think twenty-three is old enough?"

"I suppose," I say.

"That's good because I'm twenty-six," she says, chuckling.

Hilarious . . .

I prop my left ankle up on my right leg, and it makes the area very cramped, but that's how I feel sitting across from this lunatic—like I've been shoved into a box to be examined and poked by a kid that got into her mother's wardrobe and is playing dress-up.

I glance at my watch.

"Okay, so you're ready for a reading," she says, turning to Isabella.

"Yes, I am," Isabella says, shifting in her seat from side to side and getting comfortable.

"And you want to know about the sex of your baby?"

"Uh . . ." My eyes go wide.

"It's healthy. No problems, but he'll definitely have a temper, this one's got a feisty streak in him," Sparkle says, motioning with her chin at Isabella's belly.

Isabella gasps.

"How did you . . . ?" Isabella trails off.

"Sparkle sees all," the woman says.

"So do I," I reply.

"I know you do. That's why you don't need a reading. Now shush, or I'll have to ask you to wait outside." Sparkle hums for a second. "Eyes closed."

"No," I say, setting my hands on the table.

"Okay, fine. The aura will be off, I can be work with that," Sparkle says. She places five cards face down.

"Do I have to do anything?" Isabella asks.

"Clear your mind. When you've accomplished that, think of your favorite flower," Sparkle tells her.

I reach over to Isabella and settle an arm around her.

She closes her eyes, but mine remain opened.

Isabella's face relaxes completely, her lips part and she breathes through her mouth.

She almost slumps her weight into my arm. Is she in some kind of trance?

"I can see the great effect your touch has on her. She's almost in space already," Sparkle says.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I want to get up and leave.

"Nothing to fear, honey. I won't tell a soul about who and what you are. The world thinks you nothing more than a bossy, tyrant of a man. I can see you're none of those things. But there are some who think you're abusive," she says, then flips over the card closest to me.

I stare at it and it's a large salmon colored gerber daisy.

"Is your favorite flower a gerber daisy?" Sparkle asks as if she's reading my mind.

Isabella nods and keeps her eyes closed. She shivers for a second like she's got chills racing down her body.

"Good, that's real good. That was warm up. Now think of a name you've considered for this baby. A boy's name obviously, since I already told you the gender." Sparkle smiles at me.

I glare. We never got to verify we even wanted to know. That is, assuming she's not lying.

"Ready?" Sparkle asks her.

Isabella says, "Yes; ready."

I sigh.

"Okay." Sparkle flips over the next card, and it has a picture of a little red-haired boy riding a tricycle. Above it are the initials R. M.

"What's that?" I ask, pointing at the letters.

"His initials," Sparkle answers. She looks over at Isabella, with her eyes still sealed tight. "Reveal to us the name you're considering."

"Robert Masen," Isabella says.

I choke on the air in this tiny, suffocating room.

"It's fine, it's fine," Sparkle says, her wrist flopping her hand at me over and over.

I lean back. "This is most definitely not fine!"

"Let me do one more, then you can leave if you want," Sparkle says.

"Isabella, we don't have to listen to this," I say.

"I want to," she says so quiet, I almost didn't hear it.

I shift back in my seat and stare at Sparkle, daring her to push me further.

"What would you like to know most?" Sparkle asks her.

"Will I . . ." Isabella gets all choked up and emotional. Her chin falls.

I stroke her back. Will she what? Will she have a good labor and birth? Will she be the best mother ever? Will she what? What could possibly have her in this state?

"Will I . . ." Isabella gasps and then continues ". . . ever matter to my mom? Will I ever be good enough?"

That's it. I slide my wife over into my lap, hold her to my chest and stroke her hair. "You are good enough, angel. Your mom's blind—she can't see how wonderful you are. It's her that's missing out, not you."

"I miss her," Isabella says and tears stream down her cheeks. "I don't know why. She was always mean."

"Is this why we're here? You wanted to know about your future with your mom?"

She nods and nuzzles into my chest, making herself smaller.

"She can't answer that for you because it's up to your mother to change her ways," I say.

I hear the distinct sound of a card flipping.

"No. She won't ever think you're enough," Sparkle says.

That's when I pull out my wallet, yank out two twenties, throw them at this hag, pick up my wife and stride right out those doors.

I get my weeping darling girl into the car, buckle her, kiss her forehead and say, "She's wrong. Don't you dare believe her. Not even for a second."

I rush over to my side of the car, slip inside and drive her straight back to the hotel where I proceed to take care of her wounded spirit for the rest of the remaining time we have in New Orleans.

Devil woman almost ruined the end of our trip.

But I found a way to make Isabella smile.

I rubbed, worshiped and kissed her belly, talking to our baby, until Isabella was all aglow, and the radiant beauty I know her to be.

I'll be damned if anyone ever makes my Isabella feel less than.

There's no one better than her. Not a soul.

**A/N:**

**Thank you so much to all of you for reading, reviewing and rec'ing this story. It really meant a lot to me. I kind of wondered if anyone would be interested in this story, since like some of you, I was kind of burned out on some of the BDSM fan fics that are out there. I rarely read them anymore, preferring to pay for the good ones on Amazon, although, even some of those aren't a great representation of this beautiful lifestyle either. It almost seems like it's more luck of the draw than anything anymore.**

**So, I've got good news and bad news. Let me start with the bad news (depending on your point of view of course on whether this is unwelcome or not). The final chapter for this story will be posted tomorrow and then the story's complete. I'm not planning on a sequel, but I try to keep from saying never since I can't always predict where my muse will take me. It's been suggested I write an outtake for this story from Bella's point of view. I'm considering it, but not sure where I'd want to go with that yet, so if you have some suggestions on what you'd like to see, let me know. The plan for now is it would be posted first on Squeeze My Lemon for Dirty Cheeky Monkeys (sorry if I got those names wrong, was too lazy to look it up), and then I'd tack it on at the end of this story so if you're like me and you flagfic your stories you want to keep, then you'll have it all together, rather than having it separate.**

**The good news (to me anyway) is I'm already halfway done writing another story I'll begin posting very soon. I'm hoping it'll be ready by the time this story or **_**God and My Right**_ **finishes up in a few days. I'll be finishing out **_**Just an Hour**_ **as well very soon, and then my focus will be on finishing up my other open stories.**

**Here's the longer version of the summary for my new story and I'll post a teaser for chapter 1 on my blog if you're interested in knowing a little more:**

**Breaking Blood on Alabaster:**

AH ExB It's 1899 in New York City, and a young widow has bills and responsibilities to attend to. What will she do to the owner of New York Times when he refuses to sign for her bank note on her weekly wages she simply must have? Will she drag him to the lower east side and teach him a lesson, or tease him with her body until he can't take anymore? All good ideas… only she hadn't planned on this man knowing how to take absolute control of her mind and her senses regardless of how hard she tries to resist him. BDSM themes, blood lust and fisticuffs ensue. Hold on to your bowler hats and knickers—this is one clash of the classes that produces more than sparks.

**Chanse**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Delivered**

_6 months later . . ._

I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate.

Fuck, she was having a lot of contractions this morning.

I should've stayed home with her, but she almost shoved me out the door.

Weeks of this.

When would the baby come?

She was a week past due.

The doctor was talking about induction, but he didn't seem overly concerned since everything else looked fine.

Blood pressure remained good, her weight gain good, everything was just good.

Not great.

Isabella was good. Not great.

She was sick of being pregnant, and I wanted to see that sparkly smile of hers again.

I snort a laugh. Sparkly. _Sparkle_. That insane woman that told Isabella all that shit at the end of our honeymoon.

I hope her wallet gets stolen for making my wife feel bad about her situation with her mother.

A lump forms in my throat, and I settle back in my chair, gripping the back of my head.

Fuck. The baby will be here any day, and Isabella never said, but I can tell . . . She wants her mother to come see her and the baby after the birth.

What woman wouldn't want the grandparents to visit their newly arrived grandchild?

Without thinking, I grab my phone out of my pocket, and call up that vile woman.

Maybe she'll take five minutes to ground her broom and quit flying over the land of Oz with her flying monkeys.

As the phone rings, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and tip my head back.

"Hello?" a soft voice asks.

Okay, her broom sounds set aside for the moment. I can work with this.

"Hi, Ms. Swan," I begin. "This is Edward, and I'm calling to tell you Bella's about to give birth any day now."

"And I should care because . . ."

Shit! Flying monkeys!

I smile and let my head fall. This woman's unreal. "Because it's your grandchild—your grandson."

"Why did she find out the sex? Doesn't she leave anything to God anymore?" She clucks her tongue.

I exhale and pause before I tell her where to shove that witch's broom of hers. "I know she'll want you to come visit when the baby's born, but I'm not going to allow it if you're going to upset her. So, what do you say? Can we call a truce for the sake of her and the baby?"

"I don't have a problem—it's you. You're the one—controlling her and—"

"I'm not going to discuss your misunderstandings and lack of trying to be a support to your daughter. The only reason I'm calling is to offer you this opportunity to make her feel loved by one of the people in her life that should be doing it unconditionally. So, think about it. Text me if you decide you want to be there. I'll text you back once the baby comes and let you know where we are so you can come visit."

"She doesn't want me there, so what's the point? She's never listened to me," she says.

I sigh. "Look—she cares about you more than you'll ever comprehend. I really don't know why you can't see it, but she loves you. She wants you there. Period. If you want to be there and you can behave—come. That's all I'm gonna say. Have a good day." I end the call and put the phone away.

I won't waste one more minute thinking about her, so I get back to work.

.

.

.

Isabella was tired when I called her, so I told her to take a nap. I didn't call her in the afternoon because I didn't want to wake her.

When I get home at five thirty, I open the door to the smell of Chinese food.

"I'm sorry, Master . . . I couldn't, I tried, but I . . . Ohhhhhhh," she moans.

She's on her hands and knees, next to her cushion, rocking her hips back and forth.

I shove the door closed behind me, drop to her side and shove my briefcase aside.

"Are you okay, angel? Is it the baby?" I ask.

She bites her lip, nods and barely looks up at me through her lashes.

"How long has this been going on?" I ask her.

"Since I woke up from my nap."

I stroke her back with a feather touch.

"How long ago was that?"

"Three hours," she says.

Suddenly, she stiffens and her breathing is loud and tortured sounding.

I rub her lower back and it seems to help.

The contraction lasts much longer than I would've thought, but she handles it well.

My chest swells with so many emotions.

Is our baby finally going to come?

"How far apart are the contractions?" I ask her.

"A little over five minutes," she says.

Our doctor said to check in at the hospital when they were about three minutes apart.

We have time.

"Wanna a massage?" I ask her.

She shakes her head.

"I think I want to get in the tub," she says.

"Can you walk?" She looks stuck on hands and knees.

"If you help me—if I can lean on you, Master. I'm sorry I couldn't manage dinner," she apologizes once more.

"No more talk of that. Dinner's fine. I'm pleased you thought of me at all. I'll eat later. Let's get you into the bath." I pull off my suit coat, fold it and set it on the couch nearby. My tie joins it a second later.

I pick her up, and she mewls.

On our way into the bathroom, she ducks her head and curls into me, and then suddenly stiffens.

"Having another one?" I ask.

She nods and whimpers.

Shit. Five minutes apart? Is she sure? That was not five minutes in between. I realize it's a rough average, but fuck . . . I've got a lump with a jagged edge, poking in my gut, threatening to slice me open.

This feels nerve racking.

I can deal with multi-million dollar accounts, and clients that want to buy themselves an island, but this is already making me sweat.

Once we're in the bathroom, I sit on the toilet seat lid, rock her gently and coo in her ear, "You're doing so well. Such a strong girl. I'm so proud of you. I love you and can't wait to see our baby."

She grips onto my shirt, and exhales in loud sweeping waves.

I keep telling her how brave and strong she is.

"Huuuuuhhhh," she exhales and goes lax in my arms.

I kiss her crown. "I'm going to set you on the toilet, I'll start the water up and then undress you. Rest your arms on the countertop and set your head on top so you can relax," I tell her.

She does it without a single word.

I get the water going, strip myself down first, since I plan to join her. After I've got her undressed, I pick her up and set her in the tub. She leans against the wall and waits for me.

I pull her into my arms and settle her into the water, still filling up.

She nuzzles into me, and it's amazing how small she can make herself with her big belly in the way.

"I love you—you know that, right?"

"Mmhmm," she hums.

"I love everything about you and this baby." I consider telling her about my conversation with her mother but then think better of it. What if her mother doesn't show up? She might be devastated by it. So, I keep it to myself. "You make everything better, Isabella. I'm not kidding. You're more than family to me—you're my life."

She tries to burrow her way into me further.

I reach up and turn the water off now that it's practically to the top.

"I love you, too, Edward. I feel the same," she replies softly.

The tips of her hair drift in the water, and I run my fingers across them and then roam up to her scalp, massaging here and there.

Her breathing evens out until she's struck with a really strong one.

"Ohhhhh gaaaawwd!" she groans.

"Just breathe—sweetheart. I've got you," I say, holding her and rubbing my hands across her back.

"I . . . This is . . . Jeeeezus!" she cries out.

"Breathe with me. Don't think about that now. Think of a happy place . . ." I work my fingers into her spine, lower down her back.

My chest rises and falls, and she makes an effort to mimic my movements.

"Good, real good, angel. I love that you're trying so hard," I say, the smile evident in my voice.

She nods in tiny pulses then redoubles her efforts and almost right away, her body loosens up. It's not a tightly wound ball anymore.

I never believed this deep breathing shit actually worked, but it just did.

She exhales slow and steady after it's gone.

"Talk to me—tell me where you're at . . ." I say.

"I don't know. I lost it for a minute, but you pulled me back, Master. Thank you." She kisses above my right nipple.

I chuckle. "You're welcome, but that's not what I was referring to. Do you think we need to head to the hospital soon?"

"I don't know." Her shoulders rise up a mere half inch, no more than that.

"Should we see if we can ride out a few more?" I kiss the top of her head.

"Sure. If you think that's what we should do."

"I'm asking you," I say. "It's your body. Only you know exactly what it's doing. I'll take you there now if you want."

"No. I want to stay here as long as we can. 'Cause then I can cuddle with you, call you Master and be naked in your arms and . . . . ohhhhh shiiiiit!" She chokes off her words and goes stiff.

"Shhhh . . . I've got you. Relax into me. Think of your happy place and breathe with me."

"I'll try," she whimpers.

I pull her a little tighter into me, remembering how the ropes always made her almost comatosed. She likes that bound feeling.

My instincts are right on—she breathes easier, her spine softens and her hands loosen up.

"Good girl. Such a good girl. Breathe as deep as you can. Feel it low in your belly. Give the baby lots of air."

"Hhhsssshhhhh," she inhales with a hiss, then slowly blows out. The baby kicks, and I feel it in my abs.

I smile. Strong little guy.

My chest rises and falls. Her body follows mine exactly.

Wow. My heart swells even bigger at the thought she's in tune with me, even now when she's going through something so intense and overwhelming.

I wish she'd called me sooner. I could've been here for her, helping her earlier on.

My fingers trace a line up her spine, and I count off in my head how long this rush is.

They're definitely stronger and lasting longer.

But really, it's the time in between I'm supposed to keep track of. I glance at my watch I've been trying to keep dry.

I don't know how I'm supposed to do that when my attention's on her.

Real quick, I take a mental note of when that last one started.

We both grow quiet and somber, stroking each other and soaking in this intimate, tender moment.

I hum, she almost feels heavy, asleep in my arms.

My hands caress and explore the soft skin across her shoulders and back. Her hair continues to float along peacefully.

After several sweeps across her back, I rest my curled hand on her collar.

This time she's given what seems like a long break.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Mmm . . ."

"You're doing really well." I kiss her head once more. "How about we do a few more than grab your bag and head out. If it's too soon, I'm sure they'll send us back home."

"'Kay," she says.

One more passes, and this one's worse than the last, but once more, she listens to me and I'm able to help her navigate her way through.

On the second one, she cries out at the peak, and the sound of her anguished pleas, breaks my heart. I wish I could do this for her. It's my fault she's even having to go through this.

I hug her tight, and she suddenly jerks, making the water slosh and douse my watch.

Oh well. My fault I kept it on.

When the contraction ends, I shake my wrist out a little, and she growls.

"Stop moving," she barks.

I smile. _Sorry . . . little girl._

I keep quiet, picking up on her mood. She's not talking anymore, so I'm not either.

Instead, I apologize with my hands, kneading her lower back, not caring anymore if my watch gets wet.

Two more nasty contractions pass, and things have ramped up quite a bit. I think they're probably about four minutes apart, so I tell her it's time to go.

She whimpers when I sit up straight and then get out.

I release the drain then help her out.

She shivers almost right away.

I grab my towel first and immediately wrap it around her.

Then I grab hers and use it to towel off her legs.

When I'm done and about to stand up, I see a clear fluid rolling down her inner thighs.

I open up the towel wrapped around her body to see if she's really wet up top, but she's not.

"Shit," I accidentally mutter.

"What? What's wrong?" she asks.

"I think your bag of waters broke while we were in the bath," I say.

She tries to look down. "You sure?"

"No, I'm not sure, but there's some fluid slipping down your legs, and I dried you off pretty well." I duck down, and sure enough, more fluid comes trickling down. "Okay, yeah, I'm sure." I straighten my spine. "We need to get to the hospital."

Her eyes go big and she nods.

I set her down on the toilet and tell her to stay there.

Her bag's ready to go, so I get dressed real quick, grab some clothes for her, and then I hear her moaning in the bathroom. My chest tightens.

I run back to her, and find her doubled over on the toilet seat.

I squat down in front of her and tell her to settle her weight into me.

She does. Her moans grow more urgent and high pitched.

I rub her belly in front of me, and damn, it's hard as a rock.

The baby kicks my left palm.

"Ooowwww! Stop it, baby!" she wails.

I move my hand away from that spot and rub some more.

"Sssssssoooo loooong—is it ever gonna ennnnnnd?" she groans.

"Soon . . . It's almost over," I say, unsure if that's true or not. "You're doing great, sweetheart. We'll be at the hospital in a little bit."

She rocks a little.

After what seems like an eternity, it ends, and when I help her stand up, a huge gush of fluid drenches her inner thighs.

"Yeah, that water's definitely broken," I say.

She starts to laugh but then it turns into a cry. "I can't do this . . ." Her lips quiver.

"You can. You already are," I remind her.

"No, Master . . . It's too hard. I can't . . . I'm not a good Mom."

I kiss her and give her a stern look. "Don't you ever say that about yourself. You're already the perfect mother. You've taken such good care of yourself through the entire pregnancy, and I've been so proud of you for being so on top of your nutrition and exercising; reading to keep up to date on anything to do with pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding. You'll be the best mother ever."

She nods, but her lower lip juts out and her eyes are still filled with tears.

"Now, get dressed. We're going to the hospital to have this baby."

She cooperates and even though I have to move her around slowly and gently, I'm able to get her clothes on her and have her out the door with minimal fuss.

The car ride is a cruel joke. She has several gut twisting contractions, and I'm barely able to help her since I'm at the wheel.

"Almost there," I tell her.

Her cheek is pressed against the window. She stays silent, her eyes closed and her hands resting on her belly.

I pull up into the parking lot five minutes later, and as I'm helping her out, she falls into me, having a really debilitating one.

Her legs buckle, and I support her. She sags in my arms.

"Good. Go limp. Don't fight it. The baby's so happy you're giving in," I lilt.

Her head lolls to the side, and I swear she looks half-dead.

God, she's amazing at this.

I sway her lightly and after it's gone, I wrap an arm around her waist and help her walk inside.

The front desk is very helpful, and they get her checked in fairly quickly.

Before I know it, she's in a labor room, in one of those god-awful open-backed gowns, and her doctor strolls in, greeting us both enthusiastically.

He shakes our hands, and then says he's going to check her progress.

I try to fill him in on what her labor's been like over the last hour and a half while we were at home.

He tells me to move to the head of the bed so I can be next to her.

My eyes follow his every move as he washes, gloves up and then says he's going to to check her dilation.

I cringe at the thought of his hand up inside her, but he's done it before at a few of her appointments while I've been there.

"You don't fool around, do you?" the doctor asks.

I smirk. Nice choice of words.

"You're to an eight. A few more contractions, and you would've been birthing this baby at home. You're lucky you didn't have it in the parking lot."

"Her water broke at home," I blurt.

"What color was the fluid? And do you know what time this happened at?" He turns to me, pulls his hand out of her, removes the glove and tosses it in the garbage, but before I can answer, she's struck with another one.

I'm at her side, at her ear, whispering words of love and encouragement, lightly caressing her belly.

She yanks at the gown like she wants it off. I take her hand in mine and hold it to my chest.

She calms down almost immediately.

Her breaths go from panicked to deep and low, with almost a grunt at the peak.

The doctor starts bustling about the room and it seems like two nurses appear out of nowhere.

When Isabella sighs and goes lax, I report on the broken bag of waters.

He writes it down in her chart and doesn't say anything about it.

His unconcerned reaction helps me feel a little more relaxed.

A few times the nurses give me surprised looks when I tell Isabella what to do, and then they look even more shocked when she actually does it.

I have no time to be concerned about their ideas of what they're witnessing.

At one point, Isabella says, "Please touch it." She sets my hands on her neck, over her collar, and I stroke around my claim on her.

Her body automatically goes spongy, and my reflex is to kiss her deeply. She opens her mouth and moans, accepting my tongue, and then out of nowhere, things really take off.

She grunts with a deep, guttural sound and her belly presses downward.

When I stop the kiss, her eyes look almost glazed over.

"I need to check you," the doctor says.

He goes through the same rigmarole—scrubbing up, donning gloves, but this time when he checks her, she whimpers in pain.

"Can you not do that now? Can't you wait?" I ask.

"If I wait, she'll be in the middle of a contraction," he says.

"Oooohhhhh nooooo! Another one," Isabella cries.

"Get your damn hand out of her now!" I bark.

He pulls it out and says she's fully dilated, ready to push.

"Okay, Bella, it's time to get your baby out," the nurse to her left says.

My wife shakes her head and closes her eyes.

"Isabella, it's not a request. It's time to push," I tell her in a firm voice.

"I can't. I don't feel like I need to," she says.

"Let's get her more upright," the doctor suggests.

Isabella whines as I help her up into a squat. The doctor does some crazy shit to the bed so there's a squatting bar attached and even raises the bed higher off the floor.

Her next contraction there's a definite shift. And suddenly, she has to push whether she wants to or not.

I stroke her legs, but I notice it has the opposite effect from before. It's making her tenser, so I stop doing it.

Oh. My. Lord.

I see something appearing between her legs.

Hair much darker than her own.

"Is that . . . ?" I whisper, my eyes wide and breathless.

"Uuuuuunnnnngh!" Isabella grunts and strains, her head tipped back.

Her pushing contraction seems to go on forever. The edge of the baby's head wiggles, and it's the most bizarre, beautiful thing I've ever seen.

When the rush fades, she relaxes into the pillows piled up behind her.

The nurse checks the baby's heart rate and they take Isabella's vitals.

Everybody around us smiles, except me.

Isabella's exhausted.

How much longer can she do this?

My teeth grind, until Isabella looks at me with pleading eyes.

"Make it a good one. Make me proud," I say, and with her next breath, she starts pushing, her eyes zeroed in on mine, and she reaches her right hand out.

I take it and kiss her knuckles.

A shrill gasp pierces the air, and I squeeze her hand, reminding her she can do this with my touch.

She gives me an apologetic look and then goes back to concentrating.

When I glance between her legs . . . Oh, God. I can see a lot more head.

This is unreal.

It's a foot away from me—my baby's little head.

Without thinking, I reach out and caress his little crown.

It's wet, slippery and he has a ton of hair.

Isabella gasps, and when my eyes move back up to her, she beams at me, smiling and all teary eyed.

"I love you so much," I mouth, my eyes twitching and watering as well.

My hand remains on his head, and nobody balks or tells me to move it.

"Oooohhhhh Christ!" She coughs and sputters, then with a snarl, and a huge push, the head suddenly slips out, and she exhales with a loud, triumphant winded sound.

My heart stops when the baby's head turns to me, and I'm looking at shiny gray eyes.

He blinks, and tears roll down my cheeks.

"Push once more," the nurse says, and Isabella ignores her.

"Sweetheart, you push when you have to," I tell my angel.

She smiles at me, then her face contorts and it's obvious another contraction's overtaking her.

She grunts once more, and bears down, then the doctor catches the baby, and Isabella bursts into tears as she watches him show me the baby.

I stroke his cheek, and he's silent until he's in Isabella's arms, then he suddenly squawks.

She laughs through her tears, and I'm speechless.

"Like I said—you don't mess around, do you?" the doctor jokes.

She nods, kisses the baby repeatedly, and at some point, a nurse nudges past me, lowers the bed and wipes the little guy off.

The other nurse takes the squatting bar off, removes all the crazy pads and absorbent material at some point they'd draped all around her.

I never noticed all that stuff. All I saw was her, working hard and being amazing at bringing our baby into the world.

I stand at her side, hugging and kissing both her and our perfect little one. He has her lips and my chin, and maybe her nose. It's hard to tell when he keeps scrunching his nose up.

I'm passed a pair of scissors at one point, and after the cords clamped in two places, I cut in between.

A diaper is placed over his small behind, a cap put on his head and I'm in love. This kid already has my heart in his little hand as she squeezes my finger really tight.

God, he's strong.

The baby squirms and makes these little grunting sounds.

A nurse maneuvers to Isabella's other side, helps her latch the baby on and I stare wide-eyed at him sucking and nuzzling at her breast.

Isabella sighs and it's heaven—the look of ecstasy and relief on her face.

In that moment—I'm not sorry at all I lost myself and made love to her without protection.

I'm glad I slipped.

I'm glad he's here.

I'm glad I've got a family that means everything to me.

As he continues to nurse, I take a moment to text a few people, and then I notice . . .

Isabella's mom responded with a simple: **Yes, please. I want to know my grandchild.**

Okay.

I shoot her a text, stating he's here, where we are, and invite her to come visit; I remind her at the end to be nice.

Twenty minutes later, there's a rap at the door, and Isabella snoozes while the baby still snacks away.

This kid has a voracious appetite.

He still needs to be weighed and measured. They said they'd come back and do all that later when he was done eating. I was told to let them know when he stopped hogging his mom's breasts up. Okay, so that was my thought—not theirs.

"Come in," I say, loud enough the person can hear through the door, but quiet enough it won't disturb Isabella.

"Oh my," a soft, female voice gasps and there's a soft thud.

My head snaps in their direction, and there stands Isabella's mother, her purse dropped on the ground. She has a gift bag in hand, her eyes twisted into tormented emotions, and her voice choked off.

"Welcome," I say, unsure of whether or not to smile or not. I get up and stand at Isabella's side, but manage to wave her over.

"He's . . . Oh, Edward, he's beautiful," she says, looking at me like she's shocked by this.

"He looks like his mother," I say, stroking Isabella's hair on the pillow next to me.

"She was the most gorgeous baby ever, and I can see he eats like she did. She loved to breastfeed," she tells me.

I chuckle deep in my belly, trying to keep it quiet so I don't wake Isabella.

A moment later, Isabella's eyes open, and she gapes at her mother. "Mom!"

"Hi, baby," her mom replies. "How do you feel?"

"You came?" Isabella squeaks.

"I did. How could I stay away?"

Isabella looks at me and her eyes are filled with love and an emerging look of sheer joy.

"He's perfect," her mother says.

"He is," I agree.

Isabella reaches out, and her mom hugs her.

The baby comes unlatched and wails.

We all laugh. I help cover up Isabella, and out of nowhere, I say to her mom, "You wanna hold him?"

She blinks and looks caught in a net. "Can I . . . Are you sure?" she chirps.

"Please," Isabella insists, wrapping his blanket around him and passing him over.

"Knock, knock," the nurse says, stepping inside right as Isabella's mom takes hold of him.

She tucks the little guy up into her like a pro. And I have to wonder if there really is a caring mother inside there after all. Where has this woman been up to now?

Isabella follows her mom with her eyes, beaming the entire time.

"Oh, good, he's all done." The nurse peeks over Grandma Swan's shoulder and says, "Time for him to get weighed and measured."

"Oh, I just got ahold of him," Isabella's mom says.

"You can tag along. I'll let you hold him. These two can have a few moments alone," the nurse says, giving me a questioning look. She was here during the birth, and has definitely figured out Isabella will go along with whatever I decide.

"Sounds good to me," I say.

Isabella nods and grins.

We watch her mother grab her purse and disappear out the door.

The second the door closes, I drop to my knees, and kiss Isabella's feet over and over.

"My darling wife," I say.

She gasps, and when I look up, tears roll down her cheeks, but she's not looking at me, she's looking over her shoulder.

I twist my neck, and there stands her mother, mouth dropped open, holding the baby, her eyes soft and filled with tears.

She quietly backs out the door.

"I think she finally gets it," I say.

"I think so, too." Isabella wipes her tears away, and stares at me as I stay on the ground.

I go back to worshiping this goddess and being on my knees before her for the second time because she deserves to have me there.

**THE END**

**A/N:**

**Thank you so much for all your help in rec'ing this story, and for taking the time to read and review.**

**Check out my my new story I'll be posting by the end of this week called, **_**Breaking Blood on Alabaster**_**. If you liked this Dom Edward in Cuffs, then you might enjoy this one as well. He's a Dom through and through, and he has no idea how to deal with this feisty widow, Bella, from the lower east side who's a working woman, is unimpressed with his wealth and the fact he not only owns the **_**New York Times**_ **and several other newspapers in the area, but that he also owns a few tenements in her area of town. What's he supposed to do about his bloodlust; his unquenchable desire to box and spill blood? What if the only way he can have her is to find a way to resist his wicked impulses? How will he win over a woman that cares nothing about his accomplishments or him?**

**It's gonna be a ride, turn of the century style with lots of debauchery and BDSM in a time when ankles were not to be exposed.**

**Put me on author alert or keep an eye out for it if you're like me and you enjoy historical fiction but also love erotica with BDSM themes. I figured it was time they became well acquainted as bedfellows… *smirks***

**Chanse**


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